moon of my life

Embraced by the cold kiss of the midnight dew, O, my sweet, fluttering your painted eyes / my spirit is aflame, intoxicated by antimony’s sting / Come closer.

Tender-hearted woman / jostling my wits hither and thither through the wild jessamine / Honor has made a foreigner out of me!

I speak now in the language of bewitchment / each hit of tongue against teeth in devotion to the delicate curve of your lip / Am I too timid or are you too headstrong, my dear mischief?

Lift your lashes, return my awe / nary a charmer has drawn me in so / O, beauty, how you strike every facet of a glimmering jewel with envy / allow my heart to commit you to mem’ry —

I cannot call myself my forefathers’ bard / they knew naught of such affection / But let us hope, darling girl, that I am not the last!