05-25-2017, 01:33 AM
"I think I'll go home and lie very still"
I think I'll go home and lie very still,
feigning terminal illness.
Then the neighbors will all troop over to stare,
my love, perhaps, among them.
How she'll smile while the specialists
snarl in their teeth!--
she perfectly well knows what ails me.
"Love, how I'd love to slip down to the pond"
Love, how I'd love to slip down to the pond,
bathe with you close by on the bank.
Just for you I'd wear my new Memphis swimsuit,
made of sheer linen, fit for a queen--
Come see how it looks in the water!
Couldn't I coax you to wade in with me?
Let the cool creep slowly around us?
Then I'd dive deep down
and come up for you dripping,
Let you fill your eyes
with the little red fish that I'd catch.
And I'd say, standing there tall in the shallows:
Look at my fish, love,
how it lies in my hand,
How my fingers caress it,
slip down its sides . . .
But then I'd say softer,
eyes bright with your seeing:
A gift, love. No words.
Come closer and
look, it's all me.
"Oh, I'm bound downstream on the Memphis Ferry"
Oh, I'm bound downstream on the Memphis ferry,
like a runaway, snapping all ties,
With my bundle of old clothes over my shoulder.
I'm going down there where the living is,
going down there to that big city,
And there I'll tell Ptah (Lord who loves justice):
"Give me a girl tonight!"
Look at the River! eddying,
in love with the young vegetation.
Ptah himself is the life of those reedshoots,
Lady Sakhmet of the lilies--
Yes, Our Lady of Dew dwells among the lilypads--
and their son, Nefertem, sweet boy,
Blossoms newborn in the blue lotus.
Twilight is heavy with gods . . .
And the quiet joy of tomorrow,
dawn whitening over her loveliness:
O, Memphis, my city, beauty forever!--
you are a bowl of love's own berries,
Dish set for Ptah your god,
god of the handsome face.
~ From "Ancient Egyptian Literature: An Anthology," translated by John L. Foster. These poems date from the Ramesside Period (ca. 1292-1070 B.C.)
I think I'll go home and lie very still,
feigning terminal illness.
Then the neighbors will all troop over to stare,
my love, perhaps, among them.
How she'll smile while the specialists
snarl in their teeth!--
she perfectly well knows what ails me.
"Love, how I'd love to slip down to the pond"
Love, how I'd love to slip down to the pond,
bathe with you close by on the bank.
Just for you I'd wear my new Memphis swimsuit,
made of sheer linen, fit for a queen--
Come see how it looks in the water!
Couldn't I coax you to wade in with me?
Let the cool creep slowly around us?
Then I'd dive deep down
and come up for you dripping,
Let you fill your eyes
with the little red fish that I'd catch.
And I'd say, standing there tall in the shallows:
Look at my fish, love,
how it lies in my hand,
How my fingers caress it,
slip down its sides . . .
But then I'd say softer,
eyes bright with your seeing:
A gift, love. No words.
Come closer and
look, it's all me.
"Oh, I'm bound downstream on the Memphis Ferry"
Oh, I'm bound downstream on the Memphis ferry,
like a runaway, snapping all ties,
With my bundle of old clothes over my shoulder.
I'm going down there where the living is,
going down there to that big city,
And there I'll tell Ptah (Lord who loves justice):
"Give me a girl tonight!"
Look at the River! eddying,
in love with the young vegetation.
Ptah himself is the life of those reedshoots,
Lady Sakhmet of the lilies--
Yes, Our Lady of Dew dwells among the lilypads--
and their son, Nefertem, sweet boy,
Blossoms newborn in the blue lotus.
Twilight is heavy with gods . . .
And the quiet joy of tomorrow,
dawn whitening over her loveliness:
O, Memphis, my city, beauty forever!--
you are a bowl of love's own berries,
Dish set for Ptah your god,
god of the handsome face.
~ From "Ancient Egyptian Literature: An Anthology," translated by John L. Foster. These poems date from the Ramesside Period (ca. 1292-1070 B.C.)