Aubade

Cool and beautiful as the blossom of the wild carrot

With its crimson central eye.

Round and beautiful as the globe of the onion blossom

Were her pale breasts whereon I laid me down to die.

From the wound of my enemy that thrust me through in the dark wood

I arose; with sweat on my lip and the wild woodgrasses in my spur

I arose andstood

But never did I arise from loving her.