#122 (ou The Pomegranate Tree)
I was sitting in a bar with a couple of friends
and they asked me “where that girl came from?”
I replied “who?”. But i knew who they’re were talking to
It was the girl born right before the harvest moon.
I kept playing fool, so they started to describe
“It’s that red haired girl, with bright ambar eyes”
“I can’t remember well” said i. “It was a single night”
But i lied. How could i forget those deer thighs?
I gave myself a break and said i’d “take a walk”
A friend offered to come, i told him “nevermind”
“I’ll just check the other bar and be back in a while”
Though it would last as long as a trade wind of beguile.
After a few steps it became easier to remind
We were both drunk, but further more was i
She got me by the hand and our fingers entwined,
Then left me a sigh, like the waves on early July.
We got home and she didn’t kept her clothes on for long
Her back was straight and the hair descended on her backbone
Like dandelion’s overblown in her laugh of a sea mile
And her sweat drips her lap alike the well of the Nile.
I believe this girl dropped from a pomegranate tree
She tastes the juice of its seeds while i stand by her knees
Contort your legs around my head and hold me until i stun
Cross my lips on your tongue from the days of raining sun.
The clock hits 6 AM and i wait for the starting day to rise
I hope my friends didn’t wait in the bar. I actually don’t mind
Funny to see how everyday is like another night we met
Even you being so far away from here, just as me, as yet.