Me, naked
clothed only in fever
barely aware
you are there
as you tend to me
soothe me...cool me
with water
the preciousness of its coldness
my angry skin
drinking it hungrily greedily in
& always
the mystery of your voice
coming from somewhere...no where
hushing me & shushing me
to sleep
drying me
with your long red hair
whispering
in my ear
'My Beloved is mine
and I am his.'
The flames of your hair
casting out the flames of the fever
your voice
a magic spell
an incantation.
Always my heart
thanks you
for this
your care
your love
when I was sick.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem