bees and butterflies polluted my body:
too much filth has lodged with me.
there have been lashing tempests
driving rains, any moon in such
would have lost its fullness, any flower
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its loveliness, so what is left for me'
Surely now in this mortal life
little remains for me to hope for.
full of shame when I look back
wondering how may I, mud of the ditch,
dare ever to become your wife.
knowing of your great love yet unable to look at the clear flame
if that lamp that would light
our bridal chamber: now
have I decided on absolute cellbacy
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The Dilemma of Gen Ed
