chapter11诗歌原文thewasteland.docVIP

The River-Merchant’s Wife: A Letter BY Ezra Pound While my hair was still cut strait across my forehead I played about the front gate, pulling flowers. You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse, You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums. And we went on living in the village of Chokan: Two small people, without dislike or suspicious. At fourteen I married My Lord you, I never laughed, being bashful. Lowering my head, I looked at the wall. Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back. At fifteen I stopped scowling, I desired my dust to be mingled with yours Forever a