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Thursday, February 12, 2009

Flawed

Her fatal flaw shows nothing trite
She is not proud, nor always right
She does not need to have her way
Nor does she want to have her say
And yet she is closed-up, uptight

She snorts and grinds her teeth at night
and thinks grim thoughts of waste and blight
not knowing how to send away
Her fatal flaw

It plagues her, morning, noon and night
There is no respite from her plight
Procrastination fills her day
It turns her soul from gay to gray,
turns black and raw what should be white
Her fatal flaw
.

1 comment:

  1. Debido a la estructura del rondeau, más que una traducción, es una version

    Tarada

    Mi tara mortal no es corriente
    No es orgullo, no soy hiriente
    En asuntos ajenos no meto la nariz
    y si critico es con un matiz
    sin querer ser condescendiente.

    De noche resoplo, rechinan mis dientes
    Tanto derroche... ¿no lo sientes?
    Es nefasta, nada feliz
    mi tara mortal.

    Es vicio, y aunque me arrepiente
    de este silencio estridente
    ¡Desidia! ha sido mi desliz
    Tiñe mi alma clara de gris
    lo deja menos reluciente
    mi tara mortal.

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