The Dance is On

A swallow flew in
with the breeze
and
bathed in file.
 
Words and lips
stuck
 
Fragrance spread over the roof.
 
The swallow
searched for lice nest
and
finding none
trembled.
 
Hennaed cobbles have,
illumined civilization.
The swallow flew away
with her desolate longingsj
looking back,
again
and
again.
Once more dreams intoxicated her.
 
There
at the foot of the hill is a cottage;
and
a full -bodied virgin,
springing like a roe,
radiates saffron hue.
The winds blow,
springs bubble
and
infinite flowers bloom.
The meadow is full.
 
With the two lamps in her hands
who shall she kiss ?
 
The dance is on.