IN—
Among a flume and a flowering bed;
down I lay—watching those dimming stars—
into space athirst of all its darkness;
growing and desiring—an ardent one.
The moon was veiled by tenebrous clouds,
on that one strange summery night,
in the grove, I was startled by lurid light;
when I witnessed the sky slowly strip.
A scree stretched on this barrow’s top;
dewy in a coat of silvery light,
the cobblestones alike stars of night;
glint—icy in the shadows yet warm.
A laurel scent, imbuing such a charm,
pervading—it rides the soft breeze—
darting through the branches it hums;
to the nest of two sparrows asleep;
so quietly they replied, a muffled chitter.
A rill meanders in moonlit flux,
hymns it sings to this vaulted night;
Heed the spider in the shade of sight,
wily weaving his silk, soft, fortress-like
on that one fragrant, petal bed.
OUT—
The shy orbs were led—by fate of love,
I met, besotted, and softly I sunk,
thunderstruck, like an innate wild bird
relenting—seeking the sanity I lost.
As ascetic on the earthly I had been,
secluded, naught but peace I sought
until—I foresaw in some innocent eyes,
vengeance doles in a timeless lust.
How swiftly my reasoning smoldered,
to her staid tendering of bashful eyes,
embers strewed in my heart impending,
so I may grasp this simple thought.
As vigil I keep in these nightly glooms,
to bring afire all lanterns of love;
sodden, unwillingly, my verses come;
as watered by my fevering soul’s
ashen and abundant sweated drops.
The God of love—the glances shot
from the dark quivers of her orbs
arrows, now blossom in my chest;
so terse I scribe my tender verse;
godly as her lofty hip.
In my dreams often she comes,
carrying her smile—a sword
so slowly, she pierces my heart—
when I melt in one innocent touch!