Just a moment ..., I savour this ... ah, but itís flown already.
... Only a bit of music, stamping in time, humming-:
Girls, you grow warm, - girls, you silently mime, -
Dance the flavour of this fruit as we experience it!
Make of the orange a dance. Who can be oblivious
Of how it drowns in itself, of how it restrains
Its very essence of sweetness, holds it back? It
Has possessed you. You have deliciously converted it into you.
Dance the orange. The warmth of the landscape,
It draws you forth, so that your ripeness streams forth
Resplendent on the local breezes! A glow arising, revealed
Aroma after aroma! Evoke its affinity
With the pure, self-denying peel,
With the juice which joyously fills it!
© Robert Temple 2010. Website designed by Jonathan Greet