Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story



In the relaxed time of the vernal twilight, my wounded soul,

what futile effort as you’ll fold your wings

when redemption you’ll long for something

poor soul, forever sad and desperate

when you reach the end of your line you’ll find

hatred and love, passions and vile always vanish

when the disappointment, like myrrh rises

from the exquisite flowers of life, my dreamy soul

that special moment when with a simple smile

you’ll remember enemies and friends

futile soul what will you say to the sea and to the wind,

my closed heart, when you stand opposite the pale dusk?

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