Come, spend a night in the country with me, my friend (you whom the stars above would gladly call their friend), for winter’s finally over. Listen to the chatter of the doves and swallows! We’ll lounge beneath the pomegranates, palm trees, apple trees, under every lovely, leafy thing, and walk among the vines, enjoy the splendid faces we will see, in a lofty palace built of noble stones. Resting solidly on thick foundations, its walls like towers fortified, set upon a flat place, plains all around it splendid to look at from within its courts. Chambers constructed, adorned with carvings, open-work and closed-work, paving of alabaster, paving of marble, gates so many that I can’t even count them! Chamber doors paneled with ivory like palace doors, reddened with panels of cedar, like the Temple. Wide windows over them, and within those windows, the sun and moon and stars! It has a dome, too, like Solomon’s palanquin, suspended like a jewel-room, turning, changing, pearl-colored; crystal and marble in day-time; but in the evening seeming just like the night sky, all set with stars. It cheers the heart of the poor and the weary; perishing, bitter men forget their want. I saw it once and I forgot my troubles, my heart took comfort from distress, my body seemed to fly for joy, as if on wings of eagles. There was a basin brimming, like Solomon’s basin, but not on the backs of bulls like his – lions stood around its edge with wells in their innards, and mouths gushing water; they made you think of whelps that roar for prey; for they had wells inside them, wells that emitted water in streams through their mouths like rivers. Then there were canals with does planted by them, does that were hollow, pouring water, sprinkling the plants planted in the garden-beds, casting pure water upon them, watering the myrtle-garden, treetops fresh and sprinkling, and everything was fragrant as spices, everything as if it were perfumed with myrrh. Birds were singing in the boughs, peering through the palm-fronds, and there were fresh and lovely blossoms – rose, narcissus, saffron – each one boasting that he was the best, (though we thought every one was beautiful). The narcissuses said, “We are so white we rule the sun and moon and stars!” The doves complained at such talk and said, “No, we are the princesses here! Just see our neck-rings, with which we charm the hearts of men, dearer far than pearls.” The bucks rose up against the girls and darkened their splendor with their own, boasting that they were the best of all, because they are like young rams. But when the sun rose over them, I cried out, “Halt! Do not cross the boundaries!”
Marvelously, friends, of what has harvested a burning passion therefore not for that, there would be lowered, accompanied by the moon, the night, from the highest heaven to Earth. My passion is that I love in such a way that if I broke up, my heart would follow him.
Oh, I wish I knew.
If there is a way to be alone together which do not reach the ears of the spy. How wonderful I want to be alone with my beloved living, even when it is in my gut and in my chest.
Away from the gouache of his lips to those who want it, just as the border defends itself from those who besiege it, one is defended by sabers and spears, and those who are protected by the magic of her eyes.