Tell me now in what hidden way is Lady Flora the lovely Roman? Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais, Neither of them the fairer woman? Where is Echo, beheld of no man, Only heard on river and mere- She whose beauty was more than human?- But where are the snows of yester-year?

From perfect grief there need not be Wisdom or even memory; One thing then learned remains to me - The woodspurge has a cup of three.

I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet, keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames.

O time, arrest your flight! and you, propitious hours, arrest your course! Let us savor the fleeting delights of our most beautiful days!

Estas que fueron pompa y alegria despertando al albor de la manana, a la tarde seran lastima vana durmiendo en brazos de la noche fria.

At present, I am a poet trying to be a soldier. To tell the truth, I am not interested in writing nowadays, except in so far as writing is the expression of so…