XII
I shall say no more, Nothing of how we were lovers, How I was her lover and she my woman. Though once I meant to tell her -- the real her-- How in the dream she was so beautiful And so ardent a woman lover, And all we did and all we said. But I cannot tell it even to her, For the mysteries that are spoken by two bodies, The bodies of two lovers, so ardent, so beautiful, Cannot be said in words, even a lover's words, Even when the lover is a sort of a poet.