THE FIRST HOUR

Image result for flower in a dark forest

I found pleasure without addiction,

Shrugging off debilitating love and desire,

In a green, shadowy forest, which last year

Was already gone, with the same green fire.

No need to heap up leaves

With poems of polite, sighing, words.

I have already sent my love ahead,

To be picked apart by the birds.

Perfumes touch me in idleness.

I find pleasure in small perfumed flowers,

Spreading their small perfumes,

As I hold—and am held by—sleeping green hours,

Happy in their drowsiness, in no hour remaining,

The first hour, one forgotten flower, the fled hour staining.

 

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