From citron-bower be her bed,
cut from branch of tree a-flower,
fashioned for her maidenhead.
From Lydian apples, sweet of hue,
cut the width of board and lathe,
carve the feet from myrtle-wood.
Let the palings of her bed
be quince and box-wood overlaid
with the scented bark of yew.
That all the wood in blossoming,
may calm her heart and cool her blood,
for losing of her maidenhood.
Hilda Doolittle! You surprised me! ! ! You have unplumbed depths, I see
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simplisticaly, speaking, describes love beauty