To the Canticle of Canticles

***
Let him kiss me with his mouth
For thy love’s like wine of South.
Thus the savour of my good
Smells like best of sandal wood.
Love me, draw me and you’ll see –
I will run all after thee.
‘King has brought me into his
Chambers, I remember this.
Love is more than pretty wine,
Upright love thee, that’s the sign.
I’m black but comely, ye,
Daughter of Jerusalem.
Look, my King, upon me all
As I’m black from ‘ sun’s shine tall.
Mother’s children hate me, but
Made me ‘ keeper of ‘wineyard,
But my own one I’ve not
Kept at all – so that’s my fault.

02.02.98


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