As to my eyes are the bending lines
of Her soft skin so is Her dance along
the mountain curve on a sweet summer
breeze under the guidance of His presence:
leaf by leaf and ray by ray this Queen
is walking to my heart, touching with
Her veils, I hardly can believe Her call,
and I invite Her in, humbly accepting
the gift of Her warm breath
O no, there is no death when there is
parting only the reassuring promise
of Her leave to have Her and to hold
this welcome as a gentle bride
written on a tango summer course in Albi, La Fraysinette France
Boutman 