Since you are confined in the orbit of me do you not loathe the confinement? Is not even the beauty and peace of an orbit an intolerable prison to you, as it is to everybody?
But we will learn to submit each of us to the balanced, eternal orbit wherein we circle on our fate in strange conjunction.
What is chaos, my love? It is not freedom. A disarray of falling stars coming to nought.
PLEASE yourself how you have it. Take my words, and fling Them down on the counter roundly; See if they ring.
Sift my looks and expressions, And see what proportion there is Of sand in my doubtful sugar Of verities.
Have a real stock-taking Of my manly breast; Find out if I'm sound or bankrupt, Or a poor thing at best.
For I am quite indifferent To your dubious state, As to whether you've found a fortune In me, or a flea-bitten fate.
Make a good investigation Of all that is there, And then, if it's worth it, be grateful-- If not then despair.
If despair is our portion Then let us despair. Let us make for the weeping willow. I don't care.
TAKE off your cloak and your hat And your shoes, and draw up at my hearth Where never woman sat.
I have made the fire up bright; Let us leave the rest in the dark And sit by firelight.
The wine is warm in the hearth; The flickers come and go. I will warm your feet with kisses Until they glow.
THERE are only two things now, The great black night scooped out And this fire-glow.
This fire-glow, the core, And we the two ripe pips That are held in store.
Listen, the darkness rings As it circulates round our fire. Take off your things.
Your shoulders, your bruised throat Your breasts, your nakedness! This fiery coat!
As the darkness flickers and dips, As the firelight falls and leaps From your feet to your lips!
Now you are mine, to-night at last I say it; You're a dove I have bought for sacrifice, And to-night I slay it.
Here in my arms my naked sacrifice! Death, do you hear, in my arms I am bringing My offering, bought at great price.
She's a silvery dove worth more than all I've got. Now I offer her up to the ancient, inexorable God, Who knows me not.
Look, she's a wonderful dove, without blemish or spot! I sacrifice all in her, my last of the world, Pride, strength, all the lot.