If I could linger on his lovely chest

For me, this poem captures the spiritual essence
of a sexual love that goes beyond this earth.

If I could linger on his lovely chest
happy, soaring with him for whom I see
myself die, if envy did not keep me
from living my brief days with him, and best,
if holding me he’d say“My dear friend,
let us enjoy each other and be sure
that no rainburst or seas or seastorm lure
us to separation before our lives end.”
if, while my arms were sleeping on the nape
of his neck like ivy circling a tree,
death came, jealous of our carefree rapport
as tenderly he kissed me more and more
into his lips my soul would then escape
and, more than alive, I’d die in ecstacy.

Louise Labe
1525- 1566

Born in Lyon France, Louise Labe wrote in Italian
An accomplished horseman & archer
she fought in battle for Henry II
against Spain.

Transl, Aliki Barnstone & Willis Barnstone