Fondle not with my jewel
For they are my flowers
And if any one dares
Note that thy hands are in hives of bees
And you’ll not escape being stung.
Hither and thither will you be chased hither
Till your peace fly away like tattered kite.
My lines are fiery edge around my flowers.
Trespass not less thou be burned and hunted.
My jewel, my flower, my fruits
Are not for wanton mouth
Who treat jewels like lollipop.
Entreat thy feet from my sphere
Less thou fall a snare.
Ravenous wolves in sheep clothing’s
Be thou far from me
Less I rip your throat.
My fruits are for Adam to Eve.