Sunday, July 8, 2018

Blossom Lips


The horse halted and taking on the form of horse-man sang in somber voice:

What is it you love?
Fair face – radiant divine,
Blossom-lips – heaven sublime?
Sparkling eyes, mad desire,
Are these the boons you require?



How do you love?
With longing adoration, long-suffering pain?
With hope and aspiration to acquire gain?
As sharp as an arrow, tip full gleam,
As soft as a feather, love-fond dream?



Why do you love?
To quench your thirst, to entertain?
To amuse yourself, circumvent pain?
A strong elixir makes one cheery,
Darkness banished from the weary.

Lout-not, love-full, unbridled colt.
Lout-not, love-full, loveful filly.
Let spalt-maid canter, spalt-youth trot,
Let love spane – spang, spang!