LITMIR.BIZ

      IX. A LAST CONFESSION

      WHAT lively lad most pleasured me

      Of all that with me lay?

      I answer that I gave my soul

      And loved in misery,

      But had great pleasure with a lad

      That I loved bodily.

      Flinging from his arms I laughed

      To think his passion such

      He fancied that I gave a soul

      Did but our bodies touch,

      And laughed upon his breast to think

      Beast gave beast as much.

      I gave what other women gave

      «That stepped out of their clothes.

      But when this soul, its body off,

      Naked to naked goes,

      He it has found shall find therein

      What none other knows,

      And give his own and take his own

      And rule in his own right;

      And though it loved in misery

      Close and cling so tight,

      There’s not a bird of day that dare

      Extinguish that delight.

      X. MEETING

      HIDDEN by old age awhile

      In masker’s cloak and hood,

      Each hating what the other loved,

      Face to face we stood:

      «That I have met with such,» said he,

      «Bodes me little good.»

      «Let others boast their fill,» said I,

      «But never dare to boast

      That such as I had such a man

      For lover in the past;

      Say that of living men I hate

      Such a man the most.»

      «A loony’d boast of such a love,»

      He in his rage declared:

      But such as he for such as me —

      Could we both discard

      This beggarly habiliment —

      Had found a sweeter word.

      XI. FROM THE «ANTIGONE»

      OVERCOME – O bitter sweetness,

      Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl —

      The rich man and his affairs,

      The fat flocks and the fields’ fatness,

      Mariners, rough harvesters;

      Overcome Gods upon Parnassus;

      Overcome the Empyrean; hurl

      Heaven and Earth out of their places,

      That in the Same calamity

      Brother and brother, friend and friend,

      Family and family,

      City and city may contend,

      By that great glory driven wild.

      Pray I will and sing I must,

      And yet I weep – Oedipus’ child

      Descends into the loveless dust.