Like the scent of roses that rises from the branches
on a morning in May, there are gentle loves
felt as they arrive, though they enter unseen
through the cherished door that the heart opens them
willingly, as in August
the flower opens in afternoon mist.
And without murmur or complaint, or tears, or tune,
soft and wistful, like the breath of angels,
they incarnate purely in us, move in our blood
and turn the barrens green in spirit wherever they abide.
Seek these loves, seek them,
if you have one who can give you love,
for those loves are all that’s lasting
in this fleeting life.
Rosalía de Castro, “New Leaves”