O wood of woe and grief
And fair flowered trees that hence
Ne'er shall go,
Ye would wither, flower and leaf,
Were human thought and sense
Yours to know.
Since departed now is she,
Who my bitterness can raise
To a throne,
You in sympathy for me
Would stand bare for all your days
Leafless grown.
Oh floresta de dolores,
árbores dulces, floridos,
inmortales,
secárades vuesas flores
si tuviérades sentidos
humanales.
Que partiéndose daqui,
quien hace tan soberana
mi tristura,
vos, de mancilla de mí,
estuviérades mañana
sin verdura.
(…)
