10/03/17 - (Sol) Liber VII, Cap. IV, v. 9-17
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Liber VII, Cap. IV, v. 9-17
9. I am like a wounded bird flapping in circles.
10. Who knows where I shall fall?
12. Let me fall, fall down, fall away, afar, alone!
13. Let me fall!
14. Nor is there any rest, Sweet Heart, save in the cradle of royal Bacchus, the thigh of the most Holy One.
15. There rest, under the canopy of night.
16. Uranus chid Eros; Marsyas chid Olympas; I chid my beautiful lover with his sunray mane; shall I not sing?
17. Shall not mine incantations bring around me the wonderful company of the wood-gods, their bodies glistening with the ointment of moonlight and honey and myrrh?
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