Cradle me into the Sun

*Image produced by using http://weavesilk.com/, that I have discovered thanks to Sahm.

Cradle me into the Sun

Mother.
your resplendent chariot
courses through my vein,
the flesh of the grape
bulging the canticle
for your eternal blaze.
Mother,
I stand beneath you,
my primrose
bathes in your garments
cascading from the cumulus.

I slumber
on the rudder of your hand;
I am breastfed
by your milk of truth,
I am embraced
by your wind of growth,
I am embellished
by the tears of your eyes,
the delicate rubies,
the rhubarbs of Summerland’s cornucopia,
by the jeweled whip of path not yet taken.

Among the watchers, loud in impending grief,
I am bowed and I nurture
the ground with my saliva,
I return to you,
I stand ripe,
in the envoy of your sons.
I feast on your wisdom
just as you
feast on my innocence,
we transcend mortality
and omens,
I, tied to the wheel, turn gracefully
in my joys
same as in my sorrows.

Behold, I stand in blades of grass.
the emeralds spiral,
dance to greet you passing;
the hands of dethroned kings
resting on my shoulders,
each one of them
with a beard slightly longer,
just as the cloth of my death is tattered
yet still young;
In the blush I remain,
’till my word is as old
as your youngest summer.

’till my path crumbles with my womb,
till the strings of my hair
are no longer a riddle,
’till I no more walk to praise you
but to plead you
to cradle me as well into the Sun
and sing me lullabies.

~*~*~*~*~

Uljuljkaj me u Sunce

Majko,
tvoja blistava kochija
protiche mi kroz venu,
meso grozdja
strca kant
za tvoj vechni plamen.
Majko,
stojim pod tobom,
moja jagorchevina
kupa se u tvojoj odeci
koja pada u slapovima sa kumulusa.

Ja spim,
na kormilu tvoje ruke,
podojena sam
tvojim mlekom istine,
prigrljena sam
tvojim vetrom razvoja,
ukrashene sam
suzama tvojih ochiju,
tim neznim rubinima,
ravenima roga izoblja zemlje vechnog Leta,
draguljnim bichem staze josh nehodane.

Medju posmatrachima, glasnim u nadnesenoj zalosti
poklanjam se i negujem
zemlju svojom pljuvachkom,
vracam ti se,
stojim zrela
medju izaslanicima tvojih sinova.
Gostim se tvojom mudroshcu
isto kao sto se ti
gostish mojom nevinoshcu,
nadmashujemo smrtnost
i prorochanstva,
Ja, vezana za tochak, okrecem se graciozno,
u svojim radostima
isto kao u svojim tugama.

Pogledaj, stojim u vlatima trave,
smaragd u spiralama
pleshe da pozdravi tvoj prolazak:
ruke kraljeva svrgnutih sa prestola
odmaraju se na mom ramenu,
svaki od njih
sa bradom neznatno duzom,
kao sto je odelo moje smrti dronjavo
al’ ipak mlado;
u rumenilu ostajem
dok moja rech ne bude stara
koliko tvoje najmladje leto.

Dok mi se put ne izmrvi zajedno sa utrobom,
dok uvojci moje kose
vishe ne budu zagonetka,
dok vishe ne hodam da te slavim
vec da te molim,
da uljuljkash i mene u Sunce
i pevash mi uspavanke.

*This is the first inspiration I got that immediatly got tied to the silk-weave image I produced few weeks back. I got hooked, now suffering serious addiction to the webpage and weaving, that I have sworn to write a poem to accompany each weaving I make, in an effort to make me stop weaving for two hours a day (it is not working, but hey, at least I am trying!). This poem is for and from Litha, Summer Solstice. I have recited this to the sky, much to the horror of my neighbours. The bold lettering in the poem signifies where I have raised my voice.

~ by Oloriel on June 22, 2013.