Erotic
by Marguerite Yourcenar (translation)
janine canan
You the hornet, and I the rose.
You the spume, and I the rock.
In this strange metamorphosis
you the phoenix, and I the pyre.
You Narcissus, and I the spring,
my eyes reflecting your emotion.
You the treasure, and I the coffer.
I the tide -- the swimmer inside me.
And you -- mouth upon mouth --
the languor lulling the fever,
the billow dissolving in the waves.
But whatever this tender game,
the soul on fire always flying away --
exquisite gold bird -- in the wide blue sky.
