Daugher of Jerusalem,
Your skirts
Have rustled in our temples,
Your breasts
Have shone as rabbits out of lairs,
They tease the hunter from his hunting.
Daughter of Jerusalem,
The voice of you
Belongs to many countries,
The mouth of you
Ferrets out my heart,
For I have climbed a long way to visit you,
To hear your silver flute
Through windows of the garden,
To watch your swaying arms & shoulders
Stretch among the shadows of the poplars.
Oh, daughter of Jerusalem,
Until you lie with me in the tall grass
& feel my fingers resting
On your thighs
As dragonflies within a honeycomb
I shall not care
If ever there be
Wind upon the waters of Lebanon.
