Witness that tree once uprooted that knowledge rupture,
Sought thereafter that tread and slowly crawls right in me,
Encapsulated that my correspondence to God does breach,
Can feign my worship and linger in this world for longer,
For ye to tell me what vain, and perforce thou my wits retained,
For that virtue ere lost that purity only faint; sang hither sprung:
As her veils does fall. It surely does; her face slowly uncovers,
That black of modesty that shrouds her. Her book that drops,
Therefrom does her face show so fair and all that features,
Smiles at me, calls my name. Engulfs me her legs exposed,
Leaves herself and into my arms those lips so tenderly rose,
Do I not kiss the fruit never consume; that ours shared repose.
And bare nude, that Book which does utterly stare at thee;
So do I, and loves what fruit bore in ye. That through ye spoke,
And there, sparkles in thy eyes what body truly beheld,
From thy shell erupts, as do I; this correspondence held,
Written up thy heart and mine does sing our Earthly pleasure,
Tears her Book and I her clothes; thence to bed ere performed.