MOROCCO

Oh, my sweet and most pure Queen!
My heart is awash in the splendor of the dawn,
for you have called me your King!

I am sustained by these thoughts of you,
of endless, requited love across a distance.
The wind carries the sweet lullaby of your voice,
my beautiful, radiant songbird of the Rabat-Sale.

I call out to the sun and moon and stars
to keep watch over you when my eyes dare to stray.
I pray for the gods both old and new, obscured and forgotten,
to join our wandering souls in the realm of dreams.

Let us journey forth, hands locked in sweet embrace,
bound by an inevitable and most divine consummation.
Grant me the gift of your royalty, oh my dearest Soul,
my rarest blossom in the Valley of the Roses.

Let me be your earth, let my joyful tears be the rain
that falls upon the softly rolling hills of your form.
Let me reap the infinite bounty of your sweet fruit
as I am ravenous for the nourishment of your lips.

Oh, my sweet and most pure Queen!
Let my ecstasy be the morning dew
that kisses your petals before each new dawn.

a.e