XLII THE NIGHT
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
IT is now I who search for him. Each night, very softly, I leave the house and I go by a long path, to his meadow, to see him sleeping.
Sometimes I rest for a long time without speaking, happy merely in seeing him, and I approach my lips to his and kiss only his breath.
Then suddenly I cast myself upon him. He awakens in my arms, and he cannot raise himself, for I struggle. He gives up, and laughs, and clasps me. Thus we play in the night.
... First dawn, O wicked light, thou already! In what ever-darkened cave, on what subterranean meadow, can we love so long that we may lose remembrance of thee....