My Queen, the chair she sat on like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass held up by standards wrought with fruited vines from which a golden Cupid-on peeped out,
She shines with glorious bright diamonds
Unstopped, lurked her strange fragrance,
Drowning the odour stirred by the air.
Brittle spoken words melt my hearts in frozen snow,
Spat on between the web of my complications,
‘my nerves are bad tonight’
‘shut the doors and leave the windows’ she said
It was true, the moon spied and gloom when she kissed me,
disuniting purple hibiscus, causing sensational billows
We ran off the sea shore of Kuramo beach,
Let your words be sweet as the winds
The river’s tent be broken: the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank: the wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.