Talk of the Heart — A Bud

... Coming early to you, today,
the almond trees flared in my face,
on the open stage of our village hills:
Palm Sundays upon Palm Sundays, in embroidered white, among green cushions, playing the coquette, and swaggering...
... O what beauty!
Only this moment have I learned what I shall call you from this day on,
for you are a bud, my little one!

★

From its purity, the gentleness of your heart,
and from the trembling of its petals, the flutter of the tender lashes,
and from the pulse of youth in its boughs,
the playfulness of your walk and its dancing!
And from its gazing up at the sun, your questioning,
and the pout of the lips!
Oh, what skill is mine!
How did I gather all these sweetnesses together,
and what female poured you forth —
O bud!

★

I came early to you today, bubbling over with feeling,
my mouth filled with a kiss.... meant for no one else among mankind,
and I remembered the day you slipped away from my heart, a handful of my heart,
and it awoke in a soft, easeful feeling,
and with my lyre I sang...
for your eyes... and my songs fluttered up, stars and butterflies,
and I braided them about your hair, a drape of sheer silk:
a wish of happiness and good fortune.

★

... From the plaintive strain of my singing my soul grew drunk,
and the tears dried from my eyes,
and I thrilled with joy, on your feast day... and danced,
O bud!

February 16, 1954