O que não mata... (ou da força inútil) Chanson Un Peu Naïve What body can be ploughed, Sown, and broken yearly? But she would not die, she vowed, But she has, nearly. Sing, heart sing; Call and carol clearly. And, since she could not die, Care would be a feather, A film over the eye Of two that lie together. Fly, song, fly, Break your little tether. So from strength concealed She makes her pretty boast: Plain is a furrow healed And she may love you most. Cry, song, cry, And hear your crying lost. Louise Bogan --------