| |
[Aug. 10th, 2011|09:48 am] |
Upon my flowering breast
which I kept wholly for him alone,
there he lay sleeping,
and I caressing him
there in a breeze from the fanning cedars.
***
When the breeze blew from the turret,
as I parted his hair,
it wounded my neck
with its gentle hand,
suspending all my senses.
(Sv.Jānis no Krusta) |
|
|
