The sky’s sweet basil, 

Fragrant mallow, 

blue-fingered sage, 

luxuriant anise.

They dance with passion 

for the moon or the sun, 

little heads, waists 

and colors flying

The wind tosses them, 

heat opens them, 

the river applauds them, 

the drum enflames them

When they were ordered 

to become the aromatic 

leaf they all spoke, "Yes!" 

and shouted, “Me!”

Mint becomes a hasty bride, 

taking the arm of the grand cedar, 

and vanilla snares

the fragrant clove.

Let's dance feverishly, 

wild with spice 

Five weeks, five, 

their splendor lasts.

And they never succumb to death

only to love.
 
 

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Page last edited February 14, 2000
by: PhoneBoy