What the Girl Friend Said to the Foster-Mother
Listen.
My friend,
usually modest,
so fearful even of you, Mother,
will only sleep now
on the broad chest
of that man
from the tall hills
with their crashing white waterfalls:
and it hurts
to look at her.
My friend,
usually modest,
so fearful even of you, Mother,
will only sleep now
on the broad chest
of that man
from the tall hills
with their crashing white waterfalls:
and it hurts
to look at her.
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