Of my bint and balalaika

On which note or pitch to bring you sweet comfort i know not,
but on my balalaika,i make sounds of love
you and i alone know of.
To the heathen a mystery is born,
to us a miracle love.

What mortal can curse our love?
What soul will not attempt heinous crime
or betray a nation to share a love like ours,
So sweet like lust,yet divine.

How my bint is gold,
Choiciest and fairest of the daughters of eve,
That even angels,not so happy in Heaven envy us.



How my balalaika is magical,
so stringed and crafted oozing out love
Hope,peace and joy to a dying world.

Oh my comely bint,let's go tell the world of a greater love than ours
bought with a red and a price 2000years ago,
A price no mortals can pay.

Let's proclaim this greater love
A better love than ours from the master's throne.
To bid the helpless with hope,
Till hades cry foul,and heaven rejoice over her son,
Almost lost but found.



i tot of u now & always.
written Dec 20th,2007
re-edited Jan 13th,2011Inspired by John 3 vs 16
footnote:a bint is a slang for a lady in Arabic.
balalaika is a Russian guitar.