Untitled [Whence cometh such tender rapture?]
Whence cometh such tender rapture? Those curls—they are not the first ones I’ve smoothened, and I’ve already Known lips—that were darker than yours. The stars have risen and faded, —Whence cometh such tender rapture?— And eyes have risen and faded In face of these eyes of mine I’d never yet hearkened unto Such songs in the depths of darkness, —Whence cometh such tender rapture?— My head on the bard’s own breast Whence cometh such tender rapture? And what’s to be done with it, artful Young vagabound, passing minstrel With lashes—too long to say.
18 February 1916
English translation, translator’s introduction and translator’s notes copyright © 2003 by Northwestern University Press. Reprinted by permission of Northwestern University Press. All rights reserved.