The pulsing stops where time has been,
The garden is snow-bound,
The branches weighed dow and the paths filled in,
Drifts quilt the ground.
We lie soft-caught, still now it’s done,
Loose-twined across the bed
Like wrestling statues; but it still goes on
Inside my head.
Thom Gunn (1929 – 2004), British poet.
Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me
when the memory of the body awakens,
and old desire again runs through the blood;
when the lips and the skin remember,
and the hands feel as if they touch again.
Return often and take me at night,
when the lips and the skin remember …
C.P. Cavafy (1863 – 1933), Greek-Egyptian poet, journalist and civil servant.
Translation by Rae Dalven.