LXI TENDERNESSES
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
SWEETLY close thine arms, like a girdle about me. O touch, touch my skin thus! Neither water nor the breeze of noon-tide are so soft as thy hand.
Today, endear me, little sister, it is thy turn. Remember thou the tendernesses which I taught thee in the night past, and kneel thou silently near me, for I am wearied.
Thy lips descend upon my lips. All thine unbound hair follows them like a caress after a kiss. It glides over my left breast, it hides thine eyes from me.
Give me thy hand, it is hot! Press mine; hold it always. Hands better than the mouths unite, and their passion is equalled by nothing.