If caution were blown,

To the four corners,

I may propose you,

Next, a mistral for wings.

And if were so,

On which far shore,

Would you land,

If land at all?

 

On Persian shores,

Silk caressed, bejewelled,

A sheikh’s exotic mistress?

 

In Siberian winter,

Enwrapped in furs of mink,

A Russian princess?

 

In Amazonian rainforest,

Nubile, barely clad,

A people’s shaman?

 

On Arctic ice,

Seal skinned over naked flesh,

An Eskimo’s spouse?

 

In darkest Chad, Sudan, the Congo,

Befeathered, painted,

A tribal queen?

 

A thousand lives,

For us to live,

Though caution kept,

May run against my grain,

I strive to keep it,

So that, here,

For all that you be,

To me,

My mistress,

My princess,

My shaman,

My spouse,

My queen,

May be.