by: Alfred Mombert (1872-1942)
POEMS BY ALFRED MOMBERT
- ND my young
sweetheart sat at board with me.
- I ate and drank and cried most bitterly.
- Delicate linen on the board she laid.
- And of her own small shift that cloth was made.
- She gave to me a little silvern cup.
- And it was her own blood that filled it up.
- She took a loaf and gave me bread thereof.
- And that was her young body warm with love.
- Then, as of some strange mystery aware,
- She smiled, and put a rose into her hair.
- TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BY