Madrigal

From the flowery slope
that gleaming Dawn embroidered today with pearls,
wound into a garland,
these jasmines I place upon your brow,
which, though they are flowers,
ask whiteness from your temples and perfume from your lips.

Guardian of these jasmines
was a flying column of bees,
though mute in clarions,
well-armed with diamond points;
I put them to flight
and each flower cost me a wound.

Oh Chloris, more numerous than the jasmines
I have woven into your unbound hair
are the kisses I ask of you,
more numerous than the bees that formed the armed column;
these are equal flatteries:
I serve you with flowers, you pay me with honeycombs.
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Author of original: 
Luis de G├│ngora
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