A body is given me—what shall I do with it,
So whole and so mine?
For the quiet joy of breathing and living,
Whom, tell me, should I thank?
I am both a gardener and a flower I am, too;
In the prison of the world, I am not alone.
On the window panes of eternity, settled
My breathing, my warmth.
A design shall be imprinted on them,
Unrecognizable since not long ago.
Let the dregs of the moment drip down—
The sweet design cannot be crossed out.
The salt creek may forget the ocean;
If I forget
The heart whence flows my heart’s bright motion,
May I sink meanlier than the worst
Abandoned, outcast, crushed, accurst,
If I forget.
“Though you forget,
No word of mine shall mar your pleasure;
Though you forget,
You filled my barren life with treasure,
You may withdraw the gift you gave;
You still are queen, I still am slave,
Though you forget.”