THE LOVER
Though I have had friends
And a beautiful love
There is yet one lover I await above all.
She will not come to me
In the time of soft plum-blossoms
When the air is gay with birds singing
And the sky is a delicate caress;
She will come
From the midst of vast clamour
With a mist of stars about her
And great beckoning plumes of white smoke
Upon her leaping horses.
She will bend suddenly and clasp me;
She will clutch me with fierce arms
And stab me with a kiss like a wound
That bleeds slowly.
But though she will hurt me at first
In her strong gladness
She will soon soothe me gently
And cast upon me an unbreakable sleep
Softly for ever.
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