Читать книгу The Collected Works of Aleister Crowley - Aleister Crowley - Страница 108

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Love, I love you ! Night, night, cover us ! Thou art night, O my love : and there are no stars but thine eyes.

Dark night, sweet night, so warm and yet so fresh, so scented yet so holy, cover me, cover me !

Let me be no more ! Let me be Thine ; let me be Thou ; let me be neither Thou nor I ; let there be love in night and night in love.

N. O. X. the night of Pan ; and Laylah, the night before His threshold !