of all the planets that bless the poet’s high art,
mercury and bright venus play the greater part.
the first, master wit who does cleverly inscribe
what the sky’s musician will sing with coolest jive.
of course, without the moon, where is sensibility-
and without jupiter, what good the best ability?
mars is often enough little more than passion;
do not ask saturn anything at all about fashion:
he drags his foul but across the black hole of sky,
as he sits on your head, and teases you to die.
what about the sun? all light and joy, even bliss
depend on courting his brilliant, radiant kiss!
darvish, all that wanders the blue sky divine
is held in your crystal glass of bright ruby wine!
