Psalms of Devotion by Miklós Radnóti
1
Honey, why do I even play with witching,
ornate words when I am more
sorrowful than a willow, prouder than a pine,
and fairer than Sunday morning.
When in the autumn, when the sunlight
glitters pale I worship you with simple
words and I love you
as only a willow can love the languid river.
Twilights bring colorful vestments so that
I can pray to you with sad, simple words
that are born inside of me
and there is nothing left after them.
I am more sorrowful than a weeping-willow,
and I love you with pretty words all the same,
although you are lovelier than a daisy
and simpler than simple.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jc_OtRN9juE
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