The Locust
O locust, beguiler of my desires, giver of sleep, Muse of the corn-lands with shrill-sounding wings, nature's mimic of the lyre, sing for me some well-loved song, O locust, beating your strident wings with your legs, to deliver me from the pains of sleepless thought, O locust, singer of the music which soothes love!
In the morning I will give you a fresh leek and drops of dew which you shall drink from my lips.
In the morning I will give you a fresh leek and drops of dew which you shall drink from my lips.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.