Valentine (the eve of battle)
13th of Febru'ry. Cupid's forces,
camping on east horizon hills,
preen up the wings of flying horses,
sharpen the archers' target skills.
Squadron Leader Aphrodite
musters all her pilots now.
Friendly bombs will fall on Blighty
everywhere (not only Slough).
Hark to the sounds of chipping, under
knappers' hands that hone the flak,
making the arrows fly like thunder,
spiked with aphrodisiac.
Strings of Eros' bows are stretching.
Strong is the tension aimed at love.
Sweet is the song of fletchers' fletching
plumage plucked from the turtle dove.
Nightfall brings the battle omen.
Camp fires glow in the settled calm.
Dreaming lies the strong longbowman.
All power to his lusty arm!
O, ye, the gods of love, so splendid,
O, thou, sightless, wingéd boy,
please let all broken hearts be mended.
Turn sorrow's tears into morrow's joy!
Come to the modern day arena,
you famous gods of ancient reign.
Xochipilli, Venus, Clíothna!
Here is your chance to shine again!
Rise from your cloud-enclosed pavilions.
Bring us some extra love, because
now we are well into the billions.
Love is scarcer than it was.
Many, so needlessly, are lonely.
Woman has doubts and man lacks will.
Frail heart of man needs courage only.
Woman's heart is perfection still.
Love-struck Romeos, this is urgent.
Muster all the nerve you can.
Your path and hers will be convergent
if you can tell her you're her man!
Tell her an absent hour's an aeon,
yet when she's with you, time's a blink,
hers are the hills you long to ski on
all down the piste to pastures pink.
No better day for 'carpe diem'
hangs on the calendar in suspense.
Too soon we reach the mausoleum.
Too long we spend there, don't we, gents?
Florists have all the means to aid you.
Perfume loiters in every rose.
Trust to the gods of love who made you.
They made the senses in her nose!
Soon, half a million airborne stallions,
each with an archer on his back,
rush to your aid in Love's battalions
straining to launch their sweet attack.
See, night removes its starry cover.
Planets and moonbeams fade away.
Into the eyes of every lover
dawn shoots the golden beams of day.
See you next year, dear gents and ladies.
(I'll see you - you'll see this mask.)
I must be off, once more, to Hades
(very long story ... ... don't ask).
See! The wave of Cupid's armies
burst from the ranks of the eastern clime!
Ladies, surrender! Love-tsunamis
smash through the bonds of tide and time!
Good luck to you whose hearts are heaving!
Best luck to you who pant and pine!
May this battle be your achieving
ecstasy with your Valentine!
February 2010