My mother made for me this pear
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A perfect womb, a modeled lair
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Where I will grow and eat my share
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Of pastry rich beyond compare
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With pressure kneads and shapes she well
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The fruits of fields she has compelled
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In shapely sustenance I dwell
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This nascent nest my carousel
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She leaves me thus and by the sun
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I incubate, quicken, become
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A hatched babe, a newly grub
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Who praises maven mother's love
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Upon my birth see what I've found
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A stercoraceous feast abounds
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These alimentary gifts endow
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What ruminant excess allows
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And I begin to wax replete
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Unfettered life is but to eat
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Into the fruit but not the rind
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Consume and fatten up sublime
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[?] urges I possess
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Become a loose and amber flesh
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Oh sober beauty make me smooth
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While I await the turning moon
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Emergent will thou concentrate
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While August rains facilitate
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The softening by which I elate
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Burst forth a gleam to meet my fate
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The joys of light, a drink so sweet
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Before it's time again to eat
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But soon the victuals I greet
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Begin, the scarab life complete
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Gestation Of The Sacred Beetle
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| Mirah |
