Over greet, under sleep.

O high-top hill!

As I gaze onto the tips of the mounts,

I wonder how they once fornicated,

How they join between the bends,

How they kiss so intense,

As they lie at night,

Together joined under one sky,

Above swine the mighty whom fine dine with good wine,

Solemn by day—

Dancers by night, the watchers who play,

Whose liaisons are plenty, whose time is ripe,

Whose dresses are silky, whose chains are tight,

Who’s ordered by Hesiod, who consorts are worth to die.

Metis, and Themis, and Eurynome up high,

Interlink together just as harsh twine, especially during summertime.

Together they join, sweet temptation, the burning of loins,

The lacklustre performances in deep concentration.

Thus, let them live, up in the old sky,

Thus, let them watch as the hills turn to die,

As their dance of the night, turns the hills on their side,

And the soil starts to shrivel and inevitably die.

O high-top hill! Bound to collide!

I believe thou wouldst try, to not watch them cry,

As they wine and they dine,

Thus, the rain shall come down, all in good time,

For O high-top hill, of mounts so tall,

Sit in slumber and wonder, as those above make it thunder.

Whilst down below they may resist,

Such deep of a sleep, not a weep, but a creep,

Of solace.

Thus, let them watch as the hills turn to die,

As their dance of the night, turns the hills on their side,

And the soil starts to shrivel and inevitably die.

O high-top hill! Bound to collide!

I believe thou wouldst try, to not watch them cry,

As they wine and they dine,

Thus, the rain shall come down, all in good time.

For O high-top hill, of mounts so tall,

Sit in slumber and wonder, as those above make it thunder.

by Zara Faryal