To Take Thy Thorns Away: A Poem from My Eleven-Year-Old Self

Roses of Love

The Original Manuscript

(Found in my Spanish notebook: Rosa Sagrada, graded by Sra. García.)

I found a poem I wrote in Spanish class when I was eleven. I was pretty obsessed with Shakespeare at that age, and it shows. For an eleven-year-old in Spanish class, these words were incredibly deep—a raw, heartfelt expression of a profound devotion. I wanted to share it here.

Here is a small part of the transcripts, followed by the translation.

Rosa Roja

Mi rosa favorita es roja — me recuerda a Vos, a vuestro Corazón,

Aquel que por mí sangró — ¡y oh, os pido que me deis vuestra parte!

¡Dadme la espina grabada en mí solo para estar más cerca de Vos!

¡En amor dejadme ser vuestro guardián para quitaros las espinas,

porque esa sería mi mayor parte, sentir vuestro amor por el que moristeis por mí!

La poesía que mi alma entona es solo Vuestra,

Ca ningún otro amor Vuestro lugar ha de tomar,

Mas Vos jamás quisisteis esconder la muestra,

Sangrasteis por amor, y llamastes victoria a ese altar.

De cuantos amores mi inquieto pecho ha conocido,

Ninguno arde tan cierto — aqueste Corazón, el más querido.

Red Rose

My favored rose is red — it reminds me of Thee Thy Heart,

The one who bled for me — and oh I ask to give me Your part!

Give me Thy thorn engraved in me just to be closer to Thee!

In love let me be Your guard to take Thy thorns away from Thee

Because that would be my greatest part to feel Thy love Thou did die for me.

The poetry my heart doth sing is Thine,

No love on earth can ever take Thy place,

Yet Thou didst never hide Thy wounds divine,

But bled for love, and called the bleeding grace.

Of every love mine restless heart hath knew,

None burns so true as this — the Heart of You.

Every sonnet is a small altar. This one was built for a single Heart.