Standing before the forgotten pylon in the Nubian Desert,
I cry over the desert in the human soul …
*
And the miraculous train of attendents out of fairy-tales
Brings the Bride-Sekhmet to her Festival,
From the far-away desert lands
To the house of her groom, which is Hermopolis.
Her relief on the temple-wall narrows her eyes
And her lips are held in a thin smile
She is a sacred bride today, and she is free
To choose her wedding drink: would it be red beer or blood,
She is free to be vengeance and bring omens,
And, throwing down all her enemies,
In the endless whirling dance of the cycles of the universe,
She’s shining in the house of Thoth.
Dressed in all-white garments
More pure than the lotus, more pure than fine linen,
The Maiden-Lioness is smiling,
One who is an adamant bride.
© In-Taier, 2012
Russian original: http://www.stihi.ru/2012/07/28/7249