Love,
I shall wage wars for you-
Meanwhile the battle ended,
the spring would have returned—
You are like the wheat
in the wind—
colour of gold,
shades of the blue sky-
No more east winds but the one
bringing me to you, pushing the sails
forward against the gushing waves
of the ocean—
Where are the sirens—let them sing.
Where are the pearls—let them shine.
There is no voice but the voice of my woman-
There is no moon but her face-
Oh, my beloved!
The harps of the goddesses are
no match to your strings.
Vocal chords that liberate
sounds of pleasure and moans of desire-
Will you have me?
—R.
© 2026 Rhéa Hleihel. All rights reserved.
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