From Tristan to Iseult

You are a well darling-
A cask of wine-
A pitcher of thought-
A container of dreams,
Unending,
Whose first sip toils out,
The last nightmare’s rung,
From weary lips,
Once dry with longing.

See how you sate me.

See how you satisfy me,
Love of a thousand verses.

Beneath your shadow,
Soft and sublime,
I pour forth my tears,
And forget dusk’s quiet rage.

Nestled in your arms,
Like a new-born babe,
I tremble,
And call you mine,
While the whole earth roles by absently,
Heedless of a mourner’s kiss.

Who cares for the world?
We are the world,
And the world is us.

Let the evening go.

Let the old stars die.
We are too young for their ancient acheing.
We are too wise for their foolish moping.

Poetry-
The poetry of our lips-
Is our delight.

Poetry-
The poetry of our entangled spirits,
Is our paradise.