As a drenched, drowned bee Hangs numb and heavy from the bending flower, So clings to me
My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears And laid laughterless on her cheek;
Her soft white legs hanging heavily over my arm Swinging to my lullaby.
My sleeping baby hangs upon my life As a silent bee at the end of a shower Draws down the burdened flower.
[10]
She who has always seemed so light, Sways on my arm like sorrowful, storm-heavy boughs, Even her floating hair sinks like storm-bruised young leaves Reaching downwards: As the wings of a drenched, drowned bee Are a heaviness, and a weariness.
