Sun Vine

Brimming with exuberant light, the Sun, Father,

Blessed the crop and the timid vine, vineyard’s

Child, in whom the unborn, crimson nectar

Murmurs, sweet as love, bitter as parting.

 

And lo, the vine stretches, strongly; with straight

Back and vigorous love, it praises the light, the

All-holy, ever-loving overflow of divine which,

Descending on the wings of dusk, parts the clouds

 

And reveals the amber-crimson kingdom of the

Setting Sun! And madness, and sickness, and

Disease of torpor, and the cold (strikingly cruel),

Are defeated, purged into the oblivion of dark.

 

In jubilation, thus, we raise the brimming cup,

For this nectar’s sweetness, or bitterness, the

Same, is the essence of Sun, the Father’s blood;

Life itself overflows from our goblet, light divine!