To prevent the escape of any part of us from our
embrace that is so intense as to be holy, and to
let love shine clear through the body itself, we
go down together to the garden of the flesh.
Your breasts are there like offerings and your
two hands are stretched out to me; and nothing is
of so much worth as the simple provender of words
said and heard.
The shadow of the white boughs travels over your
neck and face, and your hair unloosens its bloom
in garlands on the swards.
The night is all of blue silver; the night is a
lovely silent bed--gentle night whose breezes,
one by one, will strip the great lilies erect in
the moonlight.