A Solomon Love - Eden Saga

I, Solomon, third king of Israel, potentate of Judea, son of David and Bathsheba, I am the Ecclesiastes and the proverbial lover of the sublime Balkis, Queen of Sheba. I wanted to marry her, but she declined the responsability of a queen. She has her own people and does not want another kingdom to manage.

The flying king

I referee with Hiram and other neighboring kings, peace covered me with wealth thanks to my flying machine that made me famous to the far east, the land of the rising sun. This magical spacecraft, I have it from David my father, who inherited it from the prophet Moses, pharaoh of Egypt and founding father of our nation.

The spacecraft was part of the war fleet of the great dragon, Hashem the eternal, the first god of the Hebrews. He reigned in the time of Moses, then this immortal died, another immortal took his place.

Moses of Egypt was the favorite human of Yahweh Sabaoth, his reptilian god, another great dragon who spits fire, slayer of azure and human flesh. In reward for his devout worship, Moses had the spaceship that fills me now.

The conqueror

My spaceship is indispensable. Thanks to him I can administer my most distant nations in a few days, and return to the other side of Terra. I saw everything, I knew everything, I knew everything. I have hundreds of hetaires to orchestrate all my pleasures. I have hundreds of viziers to fulfill all my desires. I am the master of the world and of peoples, like the immense Rama, my dear model, the giant of yesteryear with black skin like ebony, as well as all the nobles of the old time.

And I wait. Never has a conquest ended my insatiable thirst. More and more, whether women or empires. I never bore the title of emperor, less noble to me than that of king of the Jews. King of the chosen people. What is missing in my felicity? The color of my complexion has neither the radiance nor the depth of black skin. I would like to be black! Despite my great power, but greater fortune, I do not know how to achieve it…

..So many Uniques!

Praise the Lord! Yahweh Sabaoth is great among the gods, and even greater among the heavenly dragons! To Him the One, the Ultimate, the Unique, to Him the Best of the Better Good, sincerely His! Giant among giants, He is the first of All Gods and the last of the Ultimas! To him the Eternal, all my wishes of long life! And to his successor Adonai who killed him once in anger, the same praise, humble greetings, and long wishes! May He always last in his lifetime! And since all things must past, when He dies, could He be happy!

… For life is a lost good when one has not lived as one would have liked. (Mihai Eminescu)

They say that my people invented the one god, but if I count, since our father Abraham, sixty-four gods have reigned over Israel. There will be many more. All reptilians, all dragons, all man-eaters, and all unique, of course.

None of them ever wanted to recognize another. Their war cry to all is the same: I am the only god, the one, the eternal and you must worship me on your stomach while carefully licking my claws.

Desire

I, the great king, recognize as master and model the first emperor of humans, Rama the indomitable, the Unbeaten Sun. He inspires me, I imitate him. What he did, I will do. And my harem will have nothing to envy to his.

Above all, above power and glory, above my palaces, above my riches, what I expect without counting, what I want as a child, is to rest my soul and my heavy heart in the arms of a black beauty. I’ve seen them before. But nothing close to what will come.

I was told wonders about this queen of the South, regent of the land of Saba, land planted with cedrats, olive trees and fragrant boxwood. Would she have only a quarter of the perfections that are attributed to her, I would never cease to tease her, to enchant my sweetheart, to rock her in my bed and tenderly kiss her mouth.

Mad love

She’s in the palace gardens
I saw her through the hedge
my heart is flying
frivolous thoughts
make me young again
but what do I call you
foolish ingenue
that I saw naked
do you feel my distress
You my queen or goddess
beautiful stranger
who let me know You

Dragon

Radiant black beauty, woman swallow, pearl of the desert, your presence rejuvenates me. Your bird look gives me the power of the dragon my model. Your bewitching love has the delicate fragrance of the blood-red flowers of your hills. Where I often drank torrents of milk and honey.

Balkis my beloved, the flame is lit, without you I can die, it is a risk to run, your milk can dry up and your honey can sour, my heart can not weaken.

She

I’m black and you found me beautiful
You the great king plunderer of unfulfilled hearts
Paradise, gift of heaven to the skin, to life
You came down to me on your rebel horse
Like the golden dragon in our children’s choruses

You take me
You loved me so hard I become a mermaid
Our bodies become ship and I feel the hull
That splits me
I surrender
You’re just a reflection of yourself
The eye of fire that draws me and loves
The fawn eye

Wondering

My love is so great
Only words to say it
I miss
Your absence is much worse
In my heart where stretches
This blank
Listens to accents
Of our sliding agreements
This laugh
Smothered with a child
Near the lake where is seen
A fawn

Wandering

O my beloved, I seek you among perfumes, scents, fragrances
I desire you in the hollow of the rushes
Your throat is an empire I prefer to mine
Your wings carry you beyond our dreams
More surely than a spaceship was it given by God himself
Your charms are enough to move the rock
Black marble wall or pink granite
The swells of Brittany and the storm winds
That shake the shore where the prows are thrown

What would I tell you that my body didn’t tell you?
Memories of mornings, caresses, nights
Every morning of the world where our love leads us
Water flower, orange flower, leather and hymen flower,
Softer than a sigh and more subtle too.

Do you know how much I love you?
How far? And since when?
The day when the anathema
Put my age at auction

Remorse

I am a willow and spread
You went away first
I can’t hold back my tears
What an outcome

Of heartless loves I repent
Without conviction without the light
And without this ineffable magnitude
Feelings

Your departure is an ambush
Before your customary sweetness
Faraud, a hoarse man
The one who lies

The one who cheats at your expense
Painting his cottage in palace
The parant of a thousand colors
Unduly

Tends towards his mistress while crawling
A rosé bouquet of hollyhocks
These flowers watered by my tears
Abundantly

The tomb of regrets

Here are the words she said. Whisper in my ear, erotic prayer of bodies, happiness and satiety first, ecstasy and truth in it. Love with her has disturbing accents.
It was enough for me to go astray and treat you like a cripple, I had to express myself! What did you put your pink finger on my annoying lip? Everything fell apart on the spot.

55 66 77 88

Every day I watch
On a watchtower
The expected return
Of my beloved beauty
All it took was one mistake
To bring misfortune
This hell a hundred times deserved
Who insults your beauty

Song of Songs

The loves of Balkis and Solomon, I have already told them. They are dialogued by the great Solomon, and dedicated to his umpteenth companion, neither wife nor concubine, the woman. The only woman he loved.

The song of songs is for me the most beautiful page of the Old Testament. And Solomon the greatest Hebrew king. Light of the East, He Prophet King, Poet King, Musician King, Warrior King, Flying King, Blazing King, Ecclesiastes King shones so brightly on the Mediterranean Sea and far beyond, ever he’ll remain the first Eastern Mage and the first Western Sage.

The Third Testament

You’re waiting for me

Tomorrow, at dawn, at a time when the countryside is whitening,
I’ll go. See, I know you’re waiting for me.
I’ll go by the forest, I’ll go by the mountain.
I cannot stay away from you any longer.

I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Without seeing anything outside, without hearing any noise,
Alone, unknown, back bent, hands crossed,
Sad, and day for me will be like night.

I will not look at the evening gold that falls,
Nor the sails in the distance descending towards Harfleur,
And when I get there, I’ll put on your grave
A bouquet of green holly and heather in bloom.

(Victor Hugo, The Contemplations, 1856)