гениальный русский читатель понял то доброе, что тщетно хотел выразить бездарный русский беллетрист
ох уж этот лоуренс
Leave sex alone, leave sex alone, let it die right
away,
let it die right away, till it rises of itself again.
Meanwhile, if we must, let us think about it, and
talk about it
straight to the very end, since the need is on us.
But while we think of it, and while we talk of it
let us leave it alone, physically, keep apart.
For while we have sex in the mind, we truly have
none in the body.
Sex is a state of grace
and you’ll have to wait.
You’ll even have to repent.
And in some strange and silent way
you’ll have to pray to the far-off gods
to grant it to you.
At present sex is the mind’s preoccupation,
and in the body we can only mentally fornicate.
Today, we’ve got no sex.
We have only cerebral excitations.
The mind will have to glut itself,
and the ego will have to burst like the swollen frog,
and then perhaps we shall know true sex, in
ourselves.
