May Day

Let us leave bed and sleep to-day; for us the crimson-fronted Dawn's already risen. Now that the sky is gay in the gracious month of May, Sweetheart, let us love; let us delight our warm desire, for in this world they who do not seize it have no pleasure.
Come, my beloved, come into the wood and hear the jargon of the wild birds' song. Hark how the nightingale is sweeter than them all, yet wearies never! Let us forget all sadness, all regret, and take our joy with her, for Time is flying.
That aged Time, the lover's foe, wears wings and in his flight carries our fairest years far, far away. When, one day, you are wrinkled, you will sigh: " Witless was I that made no use of all the beauty Time has so swiftly stolen from my face. "
Leave we these tears and this regret till we are old; now we are young, let's pluck the flowers of youth. Now that the sky is gay in the gracious month of May, Sweetheart, let us love; let us delight our warm desire, for in this world they who do not seize it have no pleasure.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.