他的口芬芳如葡萄树、是枝子上有雀鸟的葡萄树。蛇和圣甲虫的标志，在她美丽的眉毛和神圣的深情的眼睑之间。她的大卷发使她的脸颊，她的抬起的喉咙和下巴发光。难道她不想把我们的心撕碎，把我们的爱在她的指缝间这样撕碎吗?小小的碎光，她用她那甜美的长长睡意朦胧的手指，一颗又一颗地把它们撕碎，白得像珍珠的心，青筋青筋，柔得像柔和夜晚的露珠。仿佛爱的眼睛从她闭着的眼皮里透出光芒，偷走了蛇或鸽子缓慢的目光;仿佛她的嘴唇吸收了全部的爱，她的灵魂吸收了全部的爱。所有从大海的心脏，从印度海湾河的绿色海岸上拧下来的高贵的珍珠都丢失了;失去了，世界上所有的爱——如此热切地向着这位女王，因为爱她。你看见，在她的喉咙旁，它们那小小的、尖锐的、闪闪发光的影子在晃动; And through her hair the imperial Curled likeness of the river snake, Whose bite shall make an end of all. Through the scales sheathing him like wings, Through hieroglyphs of gold and gem, The strong sense of her beauty stings, Like a keen pulse of love in them, A running flame through all his rings. Under those low large lids of hers She hath the histories of all time; The fruit of foliage-stricken years; The old seasons with their heavy chime That leaves its rhyme in the world's ears. She sees the hand of death made bare, The ravelled riddle of the skies, The faces faded that were fair, The mouths made speechless that were wise, The hollow eyes and dusty hair; The shape and shadow of mystic things, Things that fate fashions or forbids; The staff of time-forgotten Kings Whose name falls off the Pyramids, Their coffin-lids and grave-clothings; Dank dregs, the scum of pool or clod, God-spawn of lizard-footed clans, And those dog-headed hulks that trod Swart necks of the old Egyptians, Raw draughts of man's beginning God; The poised hawk, quivering ere he smote, With plume-like gems on breast and back; The asps and water-worms afloat Between the rush-flowers moist and slack; The cat's warm black bright rising throat. The purple days of drouth expand Like a scroll opened out again; The molten heaven drier than sand, The hot red heaven without rain, Sheds iron pain on the empty land. All Egypt aches in the sun's sight; The lips of men are harsh for drouth, The fierce air leaves their cheeks burnt white, Charred by the bitter blowing south, Whose dusty mouth is sharp to bite. All this she dreams of, and her eyes Are wrought after the sense hereof. There is no heart in her for sighs; The face of her is more than love--- A name above the Ptolemies. Her great grave beauty covers her As that sleek spoil beneath her feet Clothed once the anointed soothsayer; The hallowing is gone forth from it Now, made unmeet for priests to wear. She treads on gods and god-like things, On fate and fear and life and death, On hate that cleaves and love that clings, All that is brought forth of man's breath And perisheth with what it brings. She holds her future close, her lips Hold fast the face of things to be; Actium, and sound of war that dips Down the blown valleys of the sea, Far sails that flee, and storms of ships; The laughing red sweet mouth of wine At ending of life's festival; That spice of cerecloths, and the fine White bitter dust funereal Sprinkled on all things for a sign; His face, who was and was not he, In whom, alive, her life abode; The end, when she gained heart to see Those ways of death wherein she trod, Goddess by god, with Antony.