Bliss of union
In her alone, my jewel, can I find the five senses of Sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch. The cure for a disease is always different. But this jewel is both disease and cure. Is heaven sweeter than slumbering On the soft shoulders of the women you love? Whence did she get the fire Which burns when far, and cools when near? Her flower-decked shoulders Give me whatever I need, then and there. Her shoulders must verily be nectar For they refresh my life whenever I touch. Like sharing one’s food at one’s own home Is the embrace of this fair maid. Sweet indeed is that embrace Wherein not a breath comes between. To fall out, make up, and unite again are the gains Reaped by those obsessed with love. The more you indulge, the more you realize your ignorance. Be it love or learning.