Take the Gifts
Take the gifts of your soul and come
I’ve prepared my black room for you
March got sick in my garden
and March got my heart sick
take the myrtle of your pain and come
you’ll like all I have; I’ve cut the rose
which bloomed by the window
and laughed seeing my austere face
take your consolation and come
and take the serenity of your grief
to pass your hand over my eyes
and soften my evening awe
Libros Libertad 