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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