Ah! Fond speech! And the first mistresses!
Hair’s gold, eyes’ blue, the flower of the flesh,
Then, in the scent of the dear body’s mesh
The shy spontaneity of caresses!
How far away now is all that lightness
And all that innocence! Ah, backwards yet,
From black winter fled, to the Springtime of regret,
From my disgust, my boredom, my distress.
So I’m alone now, here, sad and alone,
Sad and desperate, chilled as are the old,
Poor as an orphan with no elder sister.
O for a woman in love, tender and mild,
Sweet, pensive, dark, and always astonished,
Who now and then kisses your brow like a child.
-o0o-
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