[My excuse for this experiment and its first chapter are in my entry from 20 January 2025.]
I am the pink of Eagan, and the iris of the mountains.
Like an iris near a weed patch, so is my sweetheart next to any flock of females.
Like an avocado tree beside some undesirable shrubs on the coast, so is my darling alongside any group of gentlemen. I reclined with pleasure beneath him, and he sheltered me from the sun’s heat, when I tasted the delicious flesh of his fruit.
He took me to this dining hall in a mansion, and I was embowered by his marquee of respect.
Sustain my bearings with oloroso, keep serving me ice-cream: for I could swoon from all this respect that he is giving me.
He supports my head in one hand, while the other is around my waist.
By all the tigers and pards in the forests of the night, I swear to you ladies of Minneapolis: you all better not try to rouse up and enflame our passion, until it is ready.
Ah, listen: The mating call of my lovely swain! His paws are galloping over the hillocks; he is racing over the flatlands.
Like a tiger or panther is my mate: look! his silhouette appears through the open trelliswork in the casement, atop our tower: he is gazing out.
My true love addressed me and said: Spring up, dear sweetheart, you lovely soul, and draw nigh. Because, look around: wintertime is gone, the storm has finished; now the fields are in blossom; the songbirds are serenading us; the landscape resounds with the cooing of doves; the coca plant has sent out her fresh leaves, and the poppies with their full pods yield a milky richness. Leap up, dear sweetheart, you lovely soul, and draw nigh.
Ah, my lovebird, you clasp the crag, up near heaven in your hideaway: fly out and show me your visage, and reply with your voice; for your voice is heart-melting, and your visage is gorgeous.
Trap all the gophers, the golden gophers that damage our poppies, for our poppies have soft pods.
The most precious possession are my sweetheart and I to each other: he takes his bliss from the pink of these hills.
Through the fullness of darkness, till the gleam of morning conceal again the bare night, seize fast, my soulmate, after the fashion of a tiger dallying with a black panther upon the Hills of the Chankly Bore.
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