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Thursday, May 10, 2001

I met an interesting character today... a very infatuative one and, and... Italian philosopher-to-be.
Passions sweeping me off my feet, it was bizarre. I am excited...

Dark eyed,
O woman of my dreams,
Ivory sandaled,
There is none like thee among the dancers,
None with swift feet.

I have not found thee in the tents,
In the broken darkness.
I have not found thee at the well-head
Among the women with pitchers.

Thine arms are as a young sapling under the bark;
Thy face as a river with lights.

White as an almond are thy shoulders;
As new almonds stripped from the husk.
They guard thee not with eunuchs;
Not with bars of copper.

Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of thy rest.
A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in patterns, has though
gathered about thee,
O Nathat-Ikanaie, "Tree-at-the-river."

As a rillet amng the sedge are thy hands upon me;
Thy fingers a frosted stream.

Thy maidens are white like pebbles;
Their music about thee!

There is none like thee among the dancers;
None with swift feet.

posted by the stradgirl* on 00:14|