From where wild roses growing red and gold;
And sun gently sleeps upon the shore,
Within my heart, a sad story was untold
Of a lovely lady whom I loved before
From where wild roses perfumed the air,
Unto my dearest Cecilia, so sweet and fair
For I love you much – more and more
By the wild roses that have ever grown
By the rocks, by the trees, my love I’ swore
Of a love that you could ever known
My Cecilia – I love you, thus, hereby:
I love you still, when green grasses unwind
Or until the heavens do cry
I love you still, when wild roses die
Or when the skies are turning gray
And when sun sets no more gently on a bay
Through then, wild roses grew pale and old
And rain falls sadly upon the shore
Within my heart I was chilling in cold,
O, my dearest Cecilia that I adore
You laid painful tears into my eyes;
All of it was made by your sweetest lies
And now I knew, that you love me never once,
My dearest Cecilia that I adore
Neither a single moment nor a chance
That you even love me not – more and more
More than wild roses or words you could tell,
By the sun who gently speaks your Farewell
O, my ever fondest Cecilia
I’d love you still, when roses have scent no more
When the sun sleeps sadly on the shore,
O, my lovely and ever dearest Cecilia
I’d love you still, for what I have swore
Until I lose my breath and exist no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem