Classic Poem

Let us make love in the oldest places in the world.
Let us talk about love in the places of the ages.
If we cannot stand before the long Chinese wall,
Or the Pyramids, or the temples of the sages;

Yet we shall walk where many feet have been before,
The Roman road through Provence will bear our interlacing print.
I shall take your hand where Gaul and Gladiator meet,
Where the stone arch of triumph bears the spear and the flint.

You may kiss me in a corner by the wall of the Popes;
Where the Rhone rushes swift by the tower of Nicolette,
I shall pick you a gay flower to wear in your coat.
The spring will remember what the stones must forget.

Les Saintes Maries de la Mer will look on our foolishness.
Must I give you your sword by the wall of Aigues Mortes?
I am not a brave lover, I fear the call to arms,
O red sails of the Crusaders, may the voyage be short!

Your breast will be my shelter in the long winds at Cette.
The stones of the Basilica on the hill of Narbonne
Shall hold our whispers; and when the dark night comes
I shall sleep by your side within the walls of Carcasonne.