– Based upon the poem Hora Tras Hora, Día Tras Día by Rosalía de Castro. Gracias to two years of Spanish I actually partially know what the poem means; but the NPWM prompt said to listen to how the words are said and the rhythm, and “translate” in your own way.
Hour after hour, day after day,
I’m eternally swallowed,
By tormenting waves that wish,
Oh they wish,
To quench my flame.
However, they cannot be rid of thorns,
Thorns left on the flowers of my crown,
People speak such whispers,
Saying thorns should never be grown.
Don’t blame the flower, for never being worn.
But sometimes the thorns prick me,
I’m left with tattered skin and tears of crimson.
Agh! Why must it always be,
The prettiest things take my heart away from me?