Heloise and Abelard

I

Abelard to Heloise 

Have the winds of fortune taken you?

Heloise, you have vanished like dew;

The wicks to the candles are cut.

The monastery gates firmly shut.

Blessed I was when your lips I did kiss;

When from your fragrance I drank to bliss.

Heloise, in my dreams you appear;

In every suspended  tear.

Heloise, you are meadow blooms,

You are plumes and fine perfumes.

Condemned I am to die,

Alas without seeing you; blue sky.

Come to me Heloise, in dream hues

Ushered by lutes, my muse.

One eve when cupid flew

You came into my view,

A whole quiver he used 

And the following I mused:

Attar of rose, the finest eaux,

Your hair of willows,

 eyes of primrose.

A symphony I compose.

Now, all sillages my love;

A lament so lachrymose.

Heloise, my lover, 

The moon is falcate.

I would your lips cover

My heart still palpitates

Heloise, Heloise,

 Curse this eclipse!

I wish to kiss your lips.

II

Lovers in dreams;

Forget your laments.

Come bathe in moonbeams;

Come dream in harmony

In perfumes of melody. 

Come to the clovers, 

dressed in purple, like emperors;

Come dream, oh lovers 

of lavenders. 

Poets are just whisperers

 Sighing the rose verse.

Weaving rivers of the universe.

They wander the groves 

In order to find doves. 

They wander the meadows,

So they find adagios. 

They wander the streams,

To find the crowns of queens. 

Poets are just whisperers 

Who their lament make ornate. 

Come lovers to the moonlit glades,

To the kingdom of naiads and shades

Your laments in ambrosia drown;

Leave your wine, pour it in cascades.

A diadem for the lovers far.

You will wear the half crown;

For incomplete by nature you are.

The lilacs and the lavenders

  have enchanted the air.

The moths dance in the papavers.

Pierrot comes riding on white mares.

Lovers come dream in this glade of cares.

III

Heloise to Abelard

Nor hawthorne nor rose 

have as vicious thorn

As this destiny of prose.

My heart is condemned 

And will not mend.

Miserable death. 

My tired breath.

Come to me my Abelard,

Come to me, my heaven starred.

Oh, how miserable my fortune 

To have smelled the perfume,

And then be forced to the gloom.

To have seen the lilac bloom;

Now in frosts of doom.

My beloved, my astrolabe. 

Is this to be my fate?

Abelard I was your queen heavenly, 

Held like the moon in reverie.

Cassiopeia queen of Ethiopie

Riled the king of cruel sea.

Being careless in her vanity

She ensured a life of tragedy. 

Yet me, alas me,

Have I riled the fates three?

To be condemned to agony.

Is there no cure to this malady?

Our story would be too tragic

 To adorn this galaxy.

The sky once uttered prophecies

Now they pray apologies.

Tell me sun, what do you do?

When the moon abandons you.

The zodiacs pity my damnations,

And yet in multitudes of constellations 

None equate my misery.

Every tear I shed for thee

Is yet another star in an infinity.

My plea amongst a starry sea: 

Abelard, come again to me!