Читать книгу Sapphic Classics - Sappho - Страница 32

XXVIII

With your head thrown backward

In my arm's safe hollow,

And your face all rosy

With the mounting fervour;

While the grave eyes greaten 5

With the wise new wonder,

Swimming in a love-mist

Like the haze of Autumn;

From that throat, the throbbing

Nightingale's for pleading, 10

Wayward, soft, and welling

Inarticulate love-notes,

Come the words that bubble

Up through broken laughter,

Sweeter than spring-water, 15

"Gods, I am so happy!"