Una gloria nunca cierta, Una llaga siempre abierta, Es amar sin ser querido.
Corazón que siempre fuiste
Bendecido y adorado, Tú no sabes, ¡Ay!, lo triste De querer no siendo amado.
A la puerta del olvido
Llama en vano el pecho herido: Muda y sorda está la puerta; Que una llaga siempre abierta Es amar sin ser querido TO LOVE WITHOUT BEING LOVED (Manuel González Prada)
A pain never asleep,
A glory never certain, A wound always open, Is to love without being loved.
Heart that you were always
Blessed and adored, You don’t know, ay!, the sad Thing of wanting not being loved.
At the gate of oblivion
He calls in vain the wounded breast: Mute and deaf is the door; That a sore always open, Is to love without being loved