The Cantata of Love : A Verse by Verse Reading of The Song of Songs by Fr. Blaise Arminjon

Author:Fr. Blaise Arminjon [Arminjon, Fr. Blaise]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Spiritual & Religion
ISBN: 9781681494678
Publisher: Ignatius Press
Published: 1988-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

The Storm of Summer

FOURTH POEM

Chapters 5:2-6:3

THE BRIDE

I sleep, but my heart is awake.

I hear my Beloved knocking.

“Open to me, my sister, my love,

my dove, my perfect one,

for my head is covered with dew,

my locks with the drops of night.”

—“I have taken off my tunic,

am I to put it on again?

I have washed my feet,

am I to dirty them again?”

My Beloved thrust his hand

through the hole in the door;

I trembled to the core of my being.

Then I rose

to open to my Beloved,

myrrh ran off my hands,

pure myrrh off my fingers,

on to the handle of the bolt.

I opened to my Beloved,

but he had turned his back and gone!

My soul failed at his flight.

I sought him but did not find him,

I called to him but he did not answer.

The watchmen came upon me

as they made their rounds in the City.

They beat me, they wounded me,

they took away my cloak,

they who guard the ramparts.

I charge you,

daughters of Jerusalem,

if you should find my Beloved,

what must you tell him. . . ?

That I am sick with love.

THE CHORUS

What makes your Beloved better than other lovers,

Ο loveliest of women?

What makes your Beloved better than other lovers,

to give us a charge like this?

THE Bride

My Beloved is fresh and ruddy,

to be known among ten thousand.

His head is golden, purest gold,

his locks are palm fronds

and black as the raven.

His eyes are doves

at a pool of water,

bathed in milk,

at rest on a pool.

His cheeks are beds of spices,

banks sweetly scented.

His lips are lilies,

distilling pure myrrh.

His hands are golden, rounded,

set with jewels of Tarshish.

His belly a block of ivory

covered with sapphires.

His legs are alabaster columns

set in sockets of pure gold.

His appearance is that of Lebanon,

unrivaled as the cedars.

His conversation is sweetness itself,

he is altogether lovable.

Such is my Beloved, such is my friend,

Ο daughters of Jerusalem!

THE CHORUS

Where did your Beloved go,

Ο loveliest of women?

Which way did your Beloved turn

so that we can help you look for him?

THE BRIDE

My Beloved went down to his garden,

to the beds of spices,

to pasture his flock in the gardens

and gather lilies.

I am my Beloved’s, and my Beloved is mine.

He pastures his flock among the lilies.

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