Poem by Tellos Agras
ROSES OF A DAY
Roses of Saint George’s Day
in the girlish hands of a young boy,
and you hold the unexpected gift,
your roses, in the middle of the road.
Much worked and thrice engraved,
multi-pleated, many-leaved, full-bloomed,
the light breeze stumbles onto them
and opens them for a deceptive browsing!
The neighborhood in spring, the day like a painting,
I felt so lucky to gaze at upon such beauty,
such rosy blooms, my mouth a rosebud too,
my lips kissing all the sinful flowers.
Yet how can roses match with you, unless
you too have a rose between your lips?
And if you ever tasted the freshness of a drink
you also had a pair of lips like roses.
Never have my eyes in front of yours
betrayed me as these roses did,
since you were one of them, the same together,
and you too grew along with them.
I knew the reason, guessed correctly,
why you wandered back and forth along the street,
your agile legs ready to run fast
the flexible knees that played a pair
in the street and on the opposite high-up balcony,
oh, tender love of my sixteenth year.
Libros Libertad 