Do not wish time away, my love, although
the nights seem cruelly long, the days
interminable; tomorrow furrows,
folding time, enabling new appraisal.

My heart is turniped, grounded deep, holding
fast, awaiting spring, firmly accepting
fallowing; nor will there be mouldering,
for this bulb is blissfully ripening.

Then, when white flesh, a-flourishing, turning
into fuchsia-green, hails the harvesting
of pungent root with pepper sting, burning
yearning, only tamed by steaming ...eating.

Oh,      then      will      come      the loving,      the feasting,
the craving,      the unleashing,      ...all unceasing.......................

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