Protect us from the foxes on the prowl
that devastate the vineyard and its grace.
The foxes take the good and make it foul.
They always desecrate the holy place.
The one I love belongs exclusively
to me alone. With no one will I share
my intimate who loves effusively.
My lover is a man beyond compare.
Until the break of day when shadows flee
he walks among the lilies where we dwell.
Turn back again, my lover, come to me.
Be like a bounding stag, a young gazelle.
I will not be at peace or calm until
I see him come across the rugged hill.
|Four Foxes, Franz Marc, 1913|