1
I, a visitor to the flank of France,
To that plain near the border of Belgium
Where-to my vacation sought new venues,
Came walking into a grove blessed by the spirit of Aphrodite.
On that day, wandering in the gardens yonder town,
Mind absent from thoughts of commission,
Humming to those colorful florets wrought from spring,
Intoxicated by their exfoliating perfumes,
I came across the most enchanting angiosperm of all:
A golden lass blooming in the sun,
With hair like drapes concealing the cherries of her cheeks
And the luscious strawberry of her lips.
One arm upheld a spinning parasol,
Whilst in the other a book she held, nestled
In the cul-de-sac of a soothing white dress,
The bodice of which sparkled like stars,
Or the diamonds adorned 'round her neck
That shimmered with she as she grinned
'Neath the opulence of her wide-brimm'd hat.
This creature of day, so fair in nature,
Sat on the grass of those gardens
As if she were an extension of the flowers herself,
Almost becoming one of them
After lifting her face to the sun,
The same way that the petals of a daisy would.
I know that when she saw me her eyes lit up
So that when I asked her (as I feigned being lost),
Directions for a path leading to town,
She delighted me with the most precious smile
That ever a man did see. We spoke of flowers -
She could name them all- and the book in her hand:
The collected works of Shakespeare,
From which I recited lines that fancied me such
That I’d committed them to memory forever,
Thus melting words that soothed her ears
Companionably into mine.
I lay with her on the grass underneath
The yawning wind that wrestled with the trees above,
Lifting the flowers high enough so that their stamens
Witnessed the fusion of our souls.
That behind my palace, pas't the gardens
Glitters the way his eyes d0, which invoke from me
Pangs of yearning for a life with him forever.
Ah, him and the sweet lake, my two treasured loves;
Both sat under the willows that shaded
Us from the sky beyond. And the flowers in chorus,
With the percussion of the trees, painted us an harmonic scene
In colors awash with the euphoria of love.
On the lake he played with my hair,
And, while folding his fingers between its tendrils,
The thrum of his voice softened my heart
As he whispered to me about his vagabond adventures in Egypt,
Sharing mysteries that were romanticized with exoticism.
Through the branches came a recording of Rachmaninoff
From the palace behind. A rising progression
Of violins secreted from us the rhythm of love,
So that together we enacted the ardent symphony physically,
As you would in a dance.
A sweet aria from a clarinet alit his face,
Making it shine above the outline of his attire.
He embraced me while the music played,
Its notes drifting with us along the aquamarine water.
I can hear it now: Symphony two, yes, take me back there
T0 where the woodwinds cry in heartache
Under breezes blown by violins that glide on Air,
Penetrating through my willows and watching us,
The Prince of my dreams and I,
Making music on the lake, welcoming us to
The sacred temple of my gardens.
My rays permeate through the diadem of your clouds,
Which conceal the dark cumulus of your eyes.
Active heat from my pistons of fusion
Steam the gardens you lay in,
Evaporating your sorrows into smiling peaks of puff.
You are the Rain and I am the Sun.
Your curling clouds rise with the strength of my warmth,
Coaxing me to stir up the tempests of nature.
Air and Fire make love to Earth and Water,
As plants and animals imitate rocks and spirits,
So that when our bodies swing in balance
All is melodic, my love, all is One.
Together, rhythmic and jiving, resplendent over the land,
There stands the perfect harmony of our union;
Me, the Sun, blazing through the Air,
Caresses you, the Rain, aqueducts of the Earth.
In prismatic sex not long lasting
We create a marvelous spectacle for all to see,
Chief among them a rainbow, evanescent with color,
Upended, like Cupid's bow
Shooting arrows of love down to the Earth below.
4
In the garden he lays me down on the grass.
Tenderly he unhinges my dress,
Sweeping his fingers over my skin.
Oh Mother Mary, Magdalena on high,
So this is what it's like?
How like Bernini his touch sculpts rapture
Into my aching body,
Engorging me with those mystical eyes.
Him, the angel: me, the elegance of St. Teresa
Reclined in ecstasy under his trance.
How his body moves against mine,
How deeply he kisses me under the trees.
The whole of my garden, ready as a virgin flower
Opens its first blossoms to the sun above,
Calling to him from beyond the Gates,
Singing for all of nature to hear:
Kiss me again, my sweet, kiss me again!
His tongue, slithery as a snake,
Coils around the apples of my bosom,
Tasting forbidden secrets of love that twinkle
From atop my peaks of honey.
His strong hands lock me to the ground
While the thrust of his body sends me to Elysium.
Emancipated butterflies escape from my mouth,
Landing on the roses 'round us,
Witnessing the splendor of our procreation.
A dam breaks, an explosion rushes forth,
Ignited by the friction of passion.
These material tools transpire opium to cast
Orgasmic hallucinations that transport us
To a place far beyond the boundaries of space.
O, cherubs and seraphim, let this moment last
Let this moment last!
O, woe is me to know that I hath left my love so.
War's tempest hath erased the land.
The French regiment depleted,
Weakened by months of stale advance,
Hath rendered me fit to assist the legion
Here in the fifth circle of Hell.
What was once Eden- Heaven on Earth-
My love's palace went burning to the ground,
Yielding to the tanks of German vanity
That rolleth over Europe like a plague of Demons.
Woe! Let the gospels of Fate keep my love safe;
With Venus' fond touch, relinquish the wrath of Mars.
Left at the settlement she waits for me,
Faithful and obedient to love's persistence, as I,
Afraid, lonely, apprehensive of Ares' success,
Miss her love, and mine heart cries for she.
Remain calm dearest: stay cool, pleasant,
A young tigress on the saucy savannah.
Woe is me to fight, that never hurteth a man before:
My innocence betrayed by the folly of man's pride.
Now I must depart, for the Devil's revenge
Hath been unfurled to destroy the jewels of Europe.
All vanished in the blink of an eye.
Loud firestorms echo over the land,
Igniting the clouds with fury,
Boiling winds that drag the embers of simmering forests
Across the continent. Help us, dear Luna:
In futility attempt to outshine the sun
One last time. For love lost is love remembr'd,
Base in the fountain of preservation,
Needed for the strength of the living,
And his once smiling face seeketh thou aid
From o’er the plains of death.
No, I will not allow him to suffer
Yonder the battlement, in those pits of doom.
Tired, hungry, nostalgic for his touch, I cannot bear to remain
Where without my love I cannot assume
The certainty of his safety.
Give me this uniform, this helmet, these arms,
So that I may immerse myself
In the guise of a soldier, to seek my love
And share his Fate, for as lovers we are inseparable: one.
God grant me the courage and strength
To take these dreams within my hands.
Frailty obstruct me not; I shall haste away
From this Purgatory and enter
The madness of my love's Inferno.
Whom, at the risk of pain, injury, and death,
Supplanted me from the location where
A ghastly shell had fallen on the ground.
Now on the muddy terrain, wounded by a wandering shard;
I shall unmask my glorious savior, mine penultimate being,
So that I may remember thy face,
And, by God's witness, thy unselfish doing.
O, Venus! 'Tis my love, valiant 'neath armor,
Come hither to prevent my demise,
Not unlike Imogen unbeknown'st to Posthumous!
Hark! What foul discourse in the court of the Gods
Hath sent my beauty asunder?
There she lay, holding me like a pup,
Starry-eyed and weathered, yet smiling through the smoke.
I give thee my gratitude, my tears, my life.
Yet why dos't thee shudder, my love?
Behold! Maroon blemishes on thy wounded side!
Come love, breathe deeply, stay with me longer.
'Tis a long way back to the front,
But by Fate's fortune we shall make it through
The peril of war's proud ruin.
Shaketh she in protest, batting her eyes.
Alas, I sense that slipping away from me,
Is the vessel of her spirit.
No! I lift her from the ashes and run,
But fall to the ground thrice, struggling,
Begging for the Gods to have mercy on my hero,
To lend her safety from the purge of defeat.
The surface of my weeping face, whispering wishes to me,
Assuring me that together we'll live on.
Death's cold grip hath immobilized my body,
And now it trembles 'neath his warmth,
Reminding me of times in the garden when he held me so,
To show me that things I never knew existed
Were alive in a world beyond this one.
There there, my love, soon I shall see
The immaterial domain of that world built of our minds,
For my body is broken and I must abandon it.
Holy abandon no, don't weep my love:
There are greater things that await us in heaven
Than in the prison of Earth's material shell.
But great things we built here too,
Like the merry symphony in the garden where we met,
When your eyes ignited the fire in my heart,
And expedited the blazon of spring's renaissance
With the garlands of my teeming youth.
As life leaveth me there is time to reminisce
About the enchantment of our first dance:
Two shadows conjuring a token
Of what was lost, once cherished.
Fair thee well love, all is not in vain,
Nor is the sweet arch of thy melancholy brow
Cast in iron through the long life ahead of thee,
Sinking into the folds of memory,
Vaulted inside the library,
Of my soul's long voyage.
