|
Poem 9 (Song of Songs 2:8-13) |
|
|
|
|
The sound of my lover coming from the hills quickly, like a deer upon the mountains
Now at my windows, walking by the walls, here at the lattices he calls—
Come with me, my love, come away
For the long wet months are past, the rains have fed the earth and left it bright with blossoms
Birds wing in the low sky, dove and songbird singing in the open air above
Earth nourishing tree and vine, green fig and tender grape, green and tender fragrance
Come with me, my love, come away
Poem 9, From The Song of Songs: A New Translation and Interpretation, HarperCollins NY, copyright © 1990 by Marcia Lee Falk. Used by permission. www.marciafalk.com
|