Amor
Es hielo abrasador, es fuego helado,
es herida que duele y no se siente,
es un soñado bien, un mal presente,
es un breve descanso muy cansado;
es un descuido que nos da cuidado,
un cobarde, con nombre de valiente,
un andar solitario entre la gente,
un amar solamente ser amado;
es una libertad encarcelada,
que dura hasta el parasismo;
enfermedad que crece si es curada.
Éste es el niño amor, éste es su abismo.
¡Mirad cuál amistad tendrá con nada
el que en todo es contrario de sí mismo!.
Love
It is burning ice, it is frozen fire,
it is hurt that hurts and it does not feel,
he is dreaming well, badly presents/displays,
it is a brief rest very tired;
it is a negligence that gives care us,
a cowardly one, with name of brave,
to walk solitary between people,
to only love being loved;
it is a jailed freedom,
that it lasts until the parasismo;
disease that grows if it is cured.
This one is the young love, this one is its abyss.
You watch which friendship will have with anything
the one that in everything is opposite of itself.Etiquetas: Francisco de Quevedo |
