Song (1)

When with lust I am smitten

To my books I then repair

And read what men have written

Of flesh forbid but fair

But in these saintly stories

Of gleaming thigh and breast

Of sainthood and its glories

Alas I find no rest

For at each body rare

The saintly man disdains

I stare o God I stare

My heart is stained with stains

And casting down the holy tomes

I lead my eyes to where

The naked girls with silver combs

Are combing out their hair

Then each pain my hermits sing

Flies upward like a spark

I live with the mortal ring

Of flеsh on flesh in dark