new thread in this tapestry – second poem


of winter tulips

(à ma muse polonaise, ania helwing)

 

“If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

-Shakespeare

brel2

 

since your golden thirst first wove itself into

that tapestry of this ancient minstrel

these crossings of our meandering paths

teaches me drought quickens our thirst for dewdrops

 

on tulips fleeting wings of nectar with fire

 

since your ancient minstrel first wove itself

into this golden tapestry of dewdrops

meandering crossings of our thirst for drought

teaches those paths quickening themselves weave me

 

dragonfly wings of fire with nectar on tulips

 

since that ancient drought this golden tapestry

wove itself dewdrops meandering into

crossings of our thirst for paths

teaches us that your minstrel quickens our

 

tulips on fire with nectar of fugitive wings

 

since first your ancient meandering teaches

we this golden minstrel weaving our thirst for

the drought itself these crossings dewdrops into

tapestry paths quickening our thirst for

 

fire of nectar on tulips with butterfly wings

 

toi voix est la nourriture de l’amour ma chanteuse

me donner trop de celui-ci que le désir peut une petite mort

et mon âme peut meurt sous une belle étoile comme toi

brel1

chrétien marc valentin

(© 15 march 2014)

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