And do you think you'll ever come to bed with me -
this year, next year, sometime indefinitely ?
What would you say if I should ask you that ?
Pass some remark about the weather or the cat,
busy yourself with something on the stove,
anything except face up to love.
Or should I call it lust, reading your thought,
wrinkling your nose at some disease I've caught
that can be cured only in your bed
between your legs not raging in my head.
True love is knowledge in the whole soul's sense
and to this knowledge no impediments
remain except our bodies' separateness
which lust will overcome and thus be blessed.