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To She Who Lies

I know you’ll cheat on me tomorrow…
But since today you give your whole to me,
You are forgiven -
The sin is old
And you are not the first to wrong!…
 
To honor you,
The prettiest of liars,
In silver censers, poisonous incense I’ve burned
Your bed I’ve sprinkled full of poppies
And clove pinks -
All bloody flowers -
I’ve stained your pillow’s lace with smell of pine,
And in the carpet on the wall like in a vase I stung
Three leafy branches of thyme
And one of crusty Eucalitpus.
 
But see,
Midnight is here…
The time when lovers, in older eras,
Together devoured the blessed poison…
So come,
Come and untie your hair from your ivory chest,
Stick The Lie in your eyes
And The Truth in your lips’ warmth.
 
From all the lucky ones who had you
How many dead
And others cursing that they can’t forget you?…
 
I know you’ll cheat on me tomorrow…
But since today you give your whole to me,
You are forgiven -
The sin is old
And you are not the first to wrong!…
 
So I don’t ask for words paired up with kisses,
I do not ask of you to say
Things you have told the others,
But, what a soul you haven’t told.
 
And I don’t ask for endless crazy ardor,
I do not ask
A thing of what the pale poet
Begs, always alone,
I want but you to change a moment
From all the moments that are like,
To pour a hydromel’s glass infinity into my soul,
My hair to braid with fresh laurel wreath
And in my looks
To petrify for good the lie of all pure loves
 
So, quiet -
As shadows, flung upon a flower pile -
To start the rite at midnight
And finish on the morrow’s dawn!