Not with libations but with shouts and laughter
I found you, my sister, at Muse's altar,
Calling blessings to me as pen did falter
And passion to write softened. I sought after
Meaning, in men's gentle and poetic words -
In their lovely lines, I could small sample find:
Beauty they see; to Woman's essence are blind.
Your verses fill my barren branches - bright birds!
Had we but met - shared common space and time
I think I should have loved you as my sister.
Both drawn to Love's flames, we burn and blister,
Translating Passion's wounds to clever rhyme.
Oh Edna, Sister, guide my mind, steer my pen
'Til we meet, laughing, at Muse's altar again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem