Next day’s subdued farewell: she standing there
Cool on the threshold, coolly looked at too
When I observed a grey strand in her hair
And found I could not bring myself to go.
Silent I took her breast, and when she wondered
Why I, who’d been her guest that night in bed
Was not prepared to leave as we had said
I looked her straight between the eyes and answered:
It’s only one more night that I’ll be staying
But use your time; the fact is, you’ve provoked me
Standing poised on the threshold in that way.
And let us speed up what we’ve got to say
For both of us forgot that you’re decaying.
With that my voice gave out, and longing choked me.
— Bertolt Brecht
Translated by John Willett