As a wild flower hangs its head and wilts <br /> Beneath the reaper's killing scythe, <br />Ill, I awaited my untimely end <br />And thought: the fateful hour's nigh. <br />With eyes already veiled by Erebus' thick gloom, <br /> My heart slowed down its beat: <br />I was collapsing, disappearing, and it seemed <br />The sun of youth had set. <br />Then you arrived, O my heart's joy, <br />And with the breath of your red lips, <br />The flaming tears of your bright eyes <br />The union of our kisses, <br />The strength of loving words and passionate sighs <br />You called me back from gloomy realms, <br />From Orcus's fields and Lethe's shores <br />Sweet pleasures to enjoy again. <br />You give me life once more, it is your healing gift, <br />I'll breathe you in until my grave. <br />My mortal hour will ev'n be sweet: <br />For now I die of love.<br /><br />Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/recovery/
