Gabriel Zaid
Birth of Venus
Thus you arise from the water,
whitest of all
and your long hair still of the sea,
and you are pressed by the winds, led by the waves
like the dawn, in undulations, most serene.
Thus you arrive, frozen as the dawn.
Thus happiness shelters like a mantle.
The Offering
My beloved is a grateful earth.
What's sown in her is never lost.
Placed in her, all faith grows fruitful.
Even the least word in her bears fruit.
All is fulfilled in her, all attains summer.
Laden with gifts she is, prodigal and ripe.
Grace upon her lips feels grateful.
In her eyes, her breasts, her acts, her silence.
To her have I rendered that which is hers.
Therefore to me she returns it.
She is the altar, the goddess, the body of the offering.
Mortal Practice
Raise the oars, be carried
along, with eyes closed.
Open your eyes, find yourself
alive: the miracle repeats.
Go, get up, forget
this treacherous shore
where you have landed.
Sundial
Weird hour. It's not
the end of the world,
but it's dusk.
Reality,
the tower of Pisa,
tells the hour
on the verge of falling.