Salome

Herod Antipas:

I’m lying by the party table with my distinguished guests
Who came with greetings and shalom from all around the world,
My spirit is uneasy though, I feel that galling stress
Each time I hear his cries through dungeon’s shaft below.

He wouldn’t keep quiet and he knows no rest,-
Just keeps shouting those offensive words,
That I disgraced my brother, that I’m in incest
By taking my brother’s wife against the Jewish low.

I told the musicians that they must hit louder
Their cymbals to muffle his disturbing cries away
And eager singers are screaming their lungs out there,
But still all this is to no avail.

He is a prophet and their ways are weird,
But prophets like him never tell lies,
I keep him in my dungeon, to kill him I not dare. 
Before killing one like him one should always think twice.

He should stay by Jordan river and bathe those silly Jews
And tell them stories that some day all their dreams come true.
That their redeemer will appear and tell them some good news,
That they arrived at heaven’s port and welcome to go through.

He disrespects my low and might, for him they aren’t good enough.
God’s temple he will not abide and people start to laugh
He would rebellion ignite  if I didn’t lock him up.
I didn’t wish him to be dead, just shut mutt’s mouth up.


Herodias:

I thought I scored my lucky bird
By switching brothers in my bed,
But my triumph was lived short.
That filthy trump does make me dread.

He came out of the desert shouting about
My betrayal and I want him dead
So much that I would reap his dreadful tongue out
And eat it without wine or bread.

My man is lying by the table with his selected guests,
His gaze is distant and aloof, his mood is black indeed.
His hands are trembling with no cause and can’t find any rest.
He startles every time he hears screams from that stupid tit. 

I need a distraction, to make him forget about that awful nut.
My daughter’s attraction better than anything else is suitable for this.
I know he is lusting after her body both day and night
When he will se her charming dance he’ll certainly be pleased.   

I’ll ask her to dance with seven veils as I did so in Rome
When Herod visited his brother and his gaze fell upon me.
I will not settle down in this provincial Judea being my home.
I will back to Rome where I can shine again with Herod’s jewellery.

When he’ll se her being so delightful and pretty and fresh,
He’ll be pleased and suggestive and ripe,
He will be longing for her wonderful carnal flesh
And she could ask him what ever she likes.
 

Salome:

I sneaked to the dungeon downstairs to watch him over there.
His face was calm, he was in trance, and than I saw his eyes,
While he was laying on the floor wrapped in his camel rug in prayer.
I felt for him that mighty urge that gave me sleepless nights.

No Nubian slave can give me such urge, that fills my inner full,
No Greek philosopher can rime those feelings I’m subjugated to.
My mother wants me dance tonight in front of swimming pool
To please stepfather. He’ll grant me any wish, what ever I want, he’ll do.

I’ve learned to dance with many veils in that corrupted Rome,
Generals their armour throw and senators toss their togas away
Mad in ecstasy and frenzy back in my mother’s home.
I can do even better in this Galilee with women’s sheitels, if I may.   

My first veil is plume and mist that creeps from torches
Made of sandal tree and from pipes stuffed with opium and hashish nips. 
They are not able to discern what is real and what is pleasure’s torture
They dream awaken and they are suggestive to my eyelashes’ weeps.

My second veil is scent from perfumes that I wear.
It blends with smoke, caresses their nostrils and wets their eyes.
They rub their faces, raising up in front of me to peer
at my body, wrapped in smoke and aroma that smell so nice. 

The third and forth veils are my sweat and oil that I anointed to my hair.
My inner thighs are moistened, my armpits are wet.
Oil drops fall in flames and ignite like stars here and there.
My sweat drops fall on their faces and ignite desire they’ll never forget.

My fifth veil is sound of my jewellery.
They caress my body and make some clacking noises.
You have to come a little closer to me
To hear them proper while you have a choice.

The sixth veil is henna patterns that cover my body like a tattoo.
You have to follow the pattern with your finger to understand its meaning.
I can se you look aroused, but don’t worry, I’m aroused too.
None of us can really say, is it real, or are we just happily dreaming.

You won at last, I have nothing left, but only one last veil.
The last veil is my hymen that I will loose for you to be your price.
You’re a man of means, as always, you prevail.
…
You laid with me as a lover, as a mighty king you’ll rise.
 

Herod Antipas:

O Salome, I’m so grateful for your delightful dance!
Ask anything to be your lawful price
for pleasure that I had, it only could be once!
I’m glad to be your happiness’ device!


Salome:

I want that man who is locked downstairs and I want him for myself.


Herodias:

Don’t pay much attention, my king, to that childish talk.
The sun will soon rise and for her it is a little bit too late.
The silly girl is dead tired and will fall asleep like a rock.
She means she wants his head brought in here on a silver plate.

And after all, wouldn’t it be lovely to grant her right
with this majestic gesture as an ultimate delight
that ends this party. For all distinguished guests this night
Will be remembered long after they have left your sight.


Herod Antipas:

He is a God’s tool and God used to tell to us through him.
He curses me now and again but nothing else between.
He was a tool for God a while, but only interim.
God doesn’t need him any more, his call was just a dream. 
 
He keeps repeating for himself those nasty words in trance.
God doesn’t need him any more, he lost his holy chance.
If I’ll dispose of him for good, God won’t give it a glance.
The girl will get what she aspires for her delightful dance.


Salome:

They brought his head and put it here
for me to take a look.
I touched with disgust his filthy hair,
His beard was soaked with blood and drooped.

I didn’t feel same mighty urge
That  I had for him before.
I felt completely nothing, zilch.
Am I alive? No more.

My mother tricked me to comply.
I didn’t want him dead.
His body in the dungeon lies,
All I’ve got is his head.

I wanted him so badly, but
then I understood,
That mother wanted him to be dead
and silenced him for good.

What can I do with bloody head?
I’ve got goosebumps over all.
I can’t lie calmly in my bed,
I hear his blood drops fall.

Blood stained the milky marble floor
and reached the swimming pool.
I can not bear it any more.
I was a naive fool.

What’s done is done, I do admit.
Herod has acted as a king.
I hope that now he’ll permit
my tour to Rome from here.

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