War and Love/Her Mouth
Her mouth is a crushed flower
That unpetals marvellously
Beneath my lips.
The perfume of her flesh says with me,
Dwells in my mouth and nostrils
After she has gone,
So that no flavour of wine or flower
Can conquer it.
The crimson that dyes her lips
Dyed mine, so close were our kisses;
All day I felt its soft caress
Making smooth my lips.
She has but to turn her head
And lay her lips to mine
For all my blood to throb tumultuously:
She is so shudderingly beautiful.
When I am bitter sad
With the emptiness of harsh days
The memory of her kissing mouth
Burns me to gladness.