LXXXIII SOLITUDE
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
FOR whom, now, shall I paint my lips? For whom shall I polish my nails? For whom shall I perfume my hair?
For whom are my breasts powdered with rouge, if they no longer tempt her? For whom are my arms laved with milk, if they may never more embrace her?
How can I sleep? How can I lay myself upon the bed? In the evening my hand, in all my bed, could not find her warm hand.
I dare not return to my house, to the chamber so frightfully empty. I dare not reopen the door. I dare not even reopen mine eyes.