Spring

A late thirteenth-century spring song by the poet Nahum, a Jew from Spain.

Winter is gone, gone is my sorrow. 

The fruit tree is in flower, 

and my heart flowers with joy.

The spikenards, as one, give forth their scent; 

the orchard of rare fruits is in full blossom. 

The hearts of friends are filled with merriment. 

O hunted gazelle who escaped far from my hut, 

come back, come drink my mulled wine and my milk!

Sorrow fled the day the flower beds revived, 

fenced in by myrtles, braided with embroideries. 

Swiftly, then, all cares took flight. 

I am surrounded by coffers full of perfumes, dripping liquid myrrh. 

The boughs of the nut tree trail low along my couch.

Trees of delight sway among the shadows: 

assia on the left, aloes on the right. 

With an emerald coloured cup, ringed [with gold], 

and garnet coloured wine, mixed with dew, 

I shall forget the misery and grief hidden deep in my heart.

What made my beloved, who used to graze 

between my fawn -[like breasts], leave me and take to the woods? 

Come to the arms of your dearest, who sings of her longing for you. 

O, my fair love, light the western lamp for me. 

In you, towering cherub, my flame will burn anew.

Crepe myrtle sunset © Jennifer Phillips