Rabéarivelo

Pomegranate

The rays of the new-born sun

    search under the branches

the breast of the ripe pomegranate

    and bite it till it bleeds

Discreet and shuddering kiss

    hard and scalding embrace.

Soon the pure thrust

    will draw purple blood.

Its taste will be sweeter,

    because it was pregnant with desire

And with fearful love

    and scented blossoms—

Pregnant by the lover sun.

Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo
(March 4, 1901 – June 23, 1937)