James Joyce (Джеймс Джойс)

A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight

They mouth love’s language. Gnash
The thirteen teeth
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.
Love’s breath in you is stale, worded or sung,
As sour as cat’s breath,
Harsh of tongue.

This grey that stares
Lies not, stark skin and bone.
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon.
Dire hunger holds his hour.
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears.
Pluck and devour!

1. Chamber Music. 27. Though I Thy Mithridates Were
2. Chamber Music. 23. This Heart That Flutters Near My Heart
3. Chamber Music. 16. O Cool Is the Valley Now
4. Chamber Music. 26. Thou Leanest to the Shell of Night
5. Satire on the Brothers Fay

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