If You Knew, Ungrateful Girl




Manuel Acuńa



If you knew, ungrateful girl,

that my breast adores you;

if you knew that it kills me,

this passion for your coat;

maybe, lovely girl,

you wouldn’t be so cruel to me.


If you knew that from the soul

from which your disdain has flown

fleeting and sad the calm,

and that I love you more than a thousand times,

as the violets take to the meadow

and to the seas the fish;


maybe then, my beautiful one,

you would hear the sad accents

of my love-complaints;

and in response to my suit,

you would mitigate my torment

with a kiss and an "I love you".


If you knew, my sweet queen,

that you are my soul,

my one and only dream;

and that when looking at your anger,

your rude melancholy

bathes my eyes in tears;


maybe then you will love me,

and with your child's lips

my dry lips you will kiss;

and show you were not indifferent

with your enjoyment and smiling

at my constant love


Love me, then, pure girl,

since you know the way

in which idolatry swears;

and in response to my suit,

come and calm my torment

with a kiss and an "I love you".


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