By Yasen Vedrin
(The Vine of Engadi)
“Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south…”
(Song of Solomon 4:16)
Northward whispers all your holiness,
Born of purest, snow-white crystal stone.
With a quiet prayer, in tenderness,
God bestowed you into worlds my own.
Southward – burns your joy within my soul.
In a gentle fire I dream and sway.
Grant me more of your warm laughter's toll
From your pupils’ warming magic ray.
Coming from the north – you are the south.
In a northward way our south is caught.
While the wind inside the chimney's mouth
Whispers how much we're each other's thought.
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