The Flea
A daring, living atom suckèd
Fair Leonór’s white breasts,
A garnet amidst pearls, a mite in a rose,
A brief mole with an invisible tooth.
She, two points of shining ivory,
with sudden disquiet, whining, bathed,
and with her twisting its boisterous life,
in a single torment, it feels a double revenge.
When the flea expired, it quoth: ‘Alas me, wretch,
for such a petty wrong, so sharp the pain!’
‘Oh, flea!’ quoth I, ‘happy thou wert,
‘Hold thy ghost, and tell Leonór
to let me suck where thou wert
and I’ll exchange my life for thy death.’
Translated by Jesús Cora
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