Ite
Go, my songs, seek your praise from the young and from the intolerant,
Move among the lovers of perfection alone.
Seek ever to stand in the hard Sophoclean light
And take your wounds from it gladly.
Dum Capitolium Scandet
How many will come after me
singing as well as I sing, none better;
Telling the heart of their truth
as I have taught them to tell it;
Fruit of my seed,
my unnameable children.
Know then that I loved you from afore-time,
Clear speakers, naked in the sun, untrammelled.
Το Καλὸν
Even in my dreams you have denied yourself to me
And sent me only your handmaids.
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