… a thought making crooked all that is straight.

Egyptian Poetry III

[Dedicated to my Sun]

I am hungry for more of your love,

You, my wolf cub!

Making love to you is intoxicating;

I will not stop

Until I am beaten from your bed

Driven to the swamp lands,

To the land of the Syrians beaten with rods and branches,

To the dark lands whipped with palms,

To the high lands bruised with sticks,

To the low lands bloodied by harsh hands –

I will not heed their words.

How could I ever leave the one I hunger for!




I wish to speak these words to Ptah, Lord of Justice:

“Give me my beloved tonight!”

The river is wine,

The reeds are Ptah

and Sekmet his lotus petals;

Jadit is his buds

and Nefertem his blossom.


The Golden Sun is full of joy;

The earth is brightened by its light.

Memphis is a bowl of love apples

Placed before the face of such beauty.

Both from the Harris 500 Papyrus
© starofseshat 2008

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