And so you were
my Belle Dame
Avec
Merci.
And I the teenage boy
of then
learning my first Keats
longing for the lines
to come true
and that I too would be
pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast
to feel for ever its soft fall and swell
& so here you are
at long last
all so deliciously
Keatsean.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem