After Catullus V
Let us live and let us love, My Lesbia, My Layla, My dark princess of the nighttime sky, Framed in velvet as black as raven’s wings, Illuminated by a thousand suns Glowing through pinpricks In the fabric of the night. May we live and love Free of the judgmental eyes And gossip tongues Which blow an ill wind, Not worth a wooden nickel. My Irish princess, My Cornish queen, Your king is in the counting house Counting all his money, While I’m deep in love Counting all your kisses, One for each light In the heavenly vault. And who’s the richer? Who, when this brief light Fades to black, Faces the end with no regrets?