 |
Clemente, clemente, Carissima mea,
Responde mihi quam clementissime possis.
Manu grave amor me opprimit,
Me contundit; quam diu ferre possum?
|
| 5 |
Tacui nimis diu, ut ne fregeres cor meum;
Quoniam nos scivi impossibiles fuisse.
Sed nunc in pectore meo tumet mea confessionis,
Rumpendum est cor illud.
Atque per dentes compressos Atlas grunniebat,
|
| 10 |
Atque ego aveo ut expirem,
Utinam denuo spirarem,
Confessione dimissa, sine angore.
Nolo praeterire spem reliquam,
Amare et amari,
|
| 15 |
Videlicet, pono Cupidum benignus esse,
Satis benignus ut iceret utrasque personas ipissime.
Quamvis cor meum ita velit,
Timeo ne dolorem quem exhalem,
Sit minus quam dolorem,
|
| 20 |
Quem inspirem quando respondes.
Quare, quicquid in tibi animo est,
Affectus germanos dice,
Sed clemente, clemente, Carissima mea,
Responde mihi quam clementissime possis.
|
|
Gently, gently, my dearest,
Answer me as gently as you can.
Love has oppressed me with a heavy hand.
It weighs me down; how long can I carry on?
|
| 5 |
I have kept silent until now, fearing that you would break my heart;
Because I know that we are impossible.
But now my confession swells in my breast,
Threatening to burst that heart I had so protected.
As Atlas groaned through clenched teeth,
|
| 10 |
So I long to exhale that confession once and for all,
So that once again,
I can breathe without pain.
I do not wish to miss my one remaining chance
To love and be loved.
|
| 15 |
But that is as much as to say that Cupid is kind,
Kind enough to smite two lovers
For each other.
Even though my heart desires it,
I fear that the pain I exhale
|
| 20 |
Will be less than the pain I inhale
When you respond.
So tell me what is in your heart,
Tell me your true feelings,
But gently, gently, my dearest,
|
| 25 |
Answer me as gently as you can.
|
|
Taciti sunt subter pedibus politis;
Nominibus expertibus, ossibus molitis,
Pulvere sparso, clamoribus dispersis,
A vente desertorum pronuntiorum culpae.
|
| 5 |
Sanguo eorum solum Matris
Infectum est acriter in Nomine Patris;
Maeste durabant dum vestis graminis
Miniata est atrociter a caecis reis;
Rubro atramento
|
| 10 |
In promptu propter,
Non potuit quin calamum
Immergeret Mater.
Ea in tantulo lumine scripsit,
Qua reliqua lux trans serram egit;
|
| 15 |
In illa crypta umbrosa tabulari
Jacent debiti coccini notari,
In camera intima in angulo cordis,
Eradere possit nil inductionis;
Ea historia intellegitur a quonam,
|
| 20 |
Cujus dolor abit numquam?
|
|
They are silent, nameless,
Ground to powder beneath polished feet,
The relentless desert wind of authoritarian proclamation
Having blown away the dust of their bones
|
| 5 |
And drowned their screams with blame.
Their grieving Mother,
Her sable coat soaked with blood,
Unnoticed by the blind raging rabble,
Her grassy garment besmirched with carmine dye,
|
| 10 |
Dipped her pen and wrote.
She wrote it all in that shadowy archival crypt
Whose only light passes through the keyhole of the lock;
Illegible in such dim illumination,
Indelible are crimson debts,
|
| 15 |
Which no amount of indoctrination can erase,
Etched in that eternal book,
The book forever lying open,
Who can understand Her history
Etched in that private corner of our hearts,
|
| 20 |
That never stops hurting?
|