Louise Labé

From the moment

From the moment I welcome to my bed
long pursued, long desired sleep,
my creature thought starts its creep,
crawls, no, runs, flies to you instead.

Then I'm gripped, or pinned, or fed
by everything I've hoped for, hold deep.
Agonised sighs seem trite, pat, cheap.
I soon forget what idle anguish said.

Sweet sleep. A night, perhaps, of happiness.
Sultry slumber, the tease of tranquility -
lavish, please, all my nights with slow slow dreams.

And if it's No to love, to tenderness,
No to the sweetest in all humanity
let me at least enjoy the feast - of all that seems.

"Sonnet 9", from Louise Labé, Lute Variations, with improvisations by Richard Price, limited edition, 2006, Rack Press, (sold out). This translation is collected, with three other Labé translations and their improvisations, in Rays.

All texts unless otherwise stated © Richard Price