V

We should live, my Lesbia, we should love,

We should value at a penny all

The rumours of our elders – they are dourer than most.

The sun can set and rise again

But once our short light has passed beneath its yardarm

We must sleep a night that never ends.

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred

Then another thousand, then a second hundred.

Then – don’t stop – another thousand, then a hundred

Then when we have shared many thousands

We shall confound them so no one can know

Or cast an evil eye upon us

When he knows that our kisses are so many.