I shudder and make myself small By drawing up my legs to my chest And take the covers off me and watch myself In a long mirror, a body a ball on a white sheet, Rocking slightly, and he is pink and brown, And she is waiting to say something That hurts him, embarrassing the stewards In his house, caressing his coachman, Stealing lovely looks at the air ... To whom, darling, can it be directed, This heart, and How to maintain it?
Will you stop hurting me, will you'stop saying Things which make me sick, Which make me mad in the stark, raving moonlight? 完
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