Who can approach you, the blue-eyed dancer
Beloved by Uruk Nanna
Unseeing but all-perseptive
When your light feet weave the lace of lust and beauty
Across the polished stone of the king’s hall
When your voice rises above the din
Of the ignorant crowd
Mesmerizing them with the tales
Of Gods’ death and desire
When your fingers glide over the strings
Of your painful lyre
Burning the music into our hearts
Dance, the golden daughter of the Moon
Pomegranate juice like blood on your lips
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
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