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
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
chrétien marc valentin
(© 15 march 2014)
