Читать книгу "Not I, but the Wind..." - Frieda von Richthofen Lawrence - Страница 25

SONG OF A MAN WHO IS LOVED

Between her breasts is my home, between her breasts.

Three sides set on me space and fear, but the fourth side rests,

Warm in a city of strength, between her breasts.

All day long I am busy and happy at my work

I need not glance over my shoulder in fear of the terrors that lurk

Behind. I am fortified, I am glad at my work.

I need not look after my soul; beguile my fear

With prayer, I need only come home each night to find the dear

Door on the latch, and shut myself in, shut out fear.

I need only come home each night and lay

My face between her breasts;

And what of good I have given the day, my peace attests.

And what I have failed in, what I have wronged

Comes up unnamed from her body and surely

Silent tongued I am ashamed.

And I hope to spend eternity

With my face down-buried between her breasts

And my still heart full of security

And my still hands full of her breasts.