LOVE

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How much of wasteful grief, and fruitless sighs,
O Passion, whom men justly name the blind,
How many crimes, how many miseries,
Scored in the tragic story of mankind
Accuse your power! With what strange care you bind
And part for ever with your charmиd lies,
Unmated bosoms and unknowing eyes!
How rarely in your barren search you find
The two who in some fair and fortunate hour
Know at a glance each other's absolute power -
A single touch, a single tone, betraying
The truth adorned in ancient song and fable,
And rush into each other's arms, obeying
An impulse perfect and inevitable.

© Archibald Lampman
© Yavor Dimitrov, translated
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© E-magazine LiterNet, 10.12.2004, № 12 (61)