The Lunar Gate to Paradise

Ambrosial and winsome sweet,
The flower garden at my feet,
A perfumed bliss, in breezes blown,
In paradisic sunlight thrown!

Gay lilac petals, gathered tight,
With pearly comrades left and right,
In shawdow glades, in forests fair,
Dianna standing — poised in prayer.

Dianna, goddess of the hunt,
Her regal stance, with sword in front,
Enraptured in the wilderness,
A violet veil, her silken dress.

A muse that offers hunting skill,
Prodigious strong, her steely will,
In moonlight luminosity,
She harbours safe in chastity.

The fearless spirit of the wild,
In which she walks, so boldly styl’d,
The hunters looking to the moon,
The blaring blast of trumpet tune!

The moon — provider of the dew,
For hunting dogs a tracking clue,
The spears held high, the traps well set,
The deer deceased, birds in a net.

A rural ambit is her scope,
The farmer’s vale, the mountain slope,
Her perfect lovely, bright visage!
Her presence does our hope enlarge!

At the crossroads, she awaits,
Above, enclosed by starlit gates,
Her power shrouded, Roman based,
She will not wed, remaining chaste.

Her father, Jupiter, of old,
Latona, proud and spiteful cold—
Her deathless mother, vengeful wild!
Who’ll rise against the mortal child.

Delos, close to Mykonos,
Her place of birth, by ocean froth,
A sea swept archipelago,
The same as twin babe Apollo.

The lunar cycle is her life,
With hunting party roused to strife,
Fertility she brings with glee,
Though she remains in chastity.

I am Dianna, bathed in night!
Tremble, mortal, at my sight!
I stand in proudness with the moon,
The starry sky — a merry tune!

AD Lovkis, 12/08/25