名人诗歌|The Painted Bed

Even when I danced erect¹

by the Nile's garden

I constructed Necropolis.

Ten million fellaheen cells

of my body floated stones

to establish a white museum.

Grisly， foul^{2， and terrific}

is the speech of bones，

thighs^{3 and arms slackened}

into desiccated sacs of flesh

hanging from an armature

where muscle was， and fat.

I lie on the painted bed

diminishing， concentrated

on the journey I undertake

to repose^{4 without pain}

in the palace of darkness，

my body beside your body.