Your lips? Or a doubt of beads?
I see a kind of cherry
An oven I lit with my own hands
My cake is ready, by God, bake it!
How many kisses I entrusted to a lip
Seize some of those kisses!
These are clusters on our vine
Be gentle with the cluster, turn it to wine.
My love is like hoarded wealth
Amass it from the riches of the enamoured!
This is me, my shackles are gold
I surrendered the shackles to you, so hold them!
**
