I Flee The City, Temples, And Each Place
I flee the city, temples, and each place
where you took pleasure in your own lament,
where you used every forceful argument
to make me yield what I could not replace.
Games, masques, tournaments bore me and I sigh
and I dream no beauty that is not of you.
And so I try to kill my passion too,
forcing another image to my eye,
hoping to break away from tender thought.
Deep in the woods I found a lonely trail,
and after wandering in a maze I sought
to put you wholly out of mind. I fail.
Only outside my body can I live
or else in exile like a fugitive.
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Comments about this poem (I Flee The City, Temples, And Each Place by Louise Labe )
(13-7-31 (see reverse))
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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