Hey all! I was in the mood for stupid, so I wrote a parody of some of the Song of Songs with Eorzean references. Perfect for Valentine's day, and those in the mood for luuuurrrve.

Ballad of Ballads

She
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
O, your love is better than wine;
better than choicest Bacchus;
Your name is oil poured out;
fragrant as the first press of the olives.


He
I compare you, my love,
to a mare among Ishgard’s destriers.
Your cheeks are lovely with ornament,
your neck with a chain of electrum.


She
My beloved is to me a sachet of costus
that lies between my breasts.
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
In the steppes of Othard.

The umbrella fig tree ripens its figs,
and the young morbol vines are in blossom.
Graze, my beloved, among the water lilies
until the day breaks
and the shadows flee,
leap, my beloved, as a young antelope
down the cleft mountains of Abalathia.


He
Lo, you are beautiful, my love,
lo, unbearably lovely.
Your eyes are fiery cockerels
behind your gossamer veil.
Your hair is like a flock of aldgoats
leaping down the slopes of Halatali.
Your teeth are like a flock of shorn ewes
that have come up from the Maidenmere,
each one with its twin,
none has lost its young.
Your lips are like a Sunsilk scarlet thread,
your mouth like a ripe La Noscean orange.
Your neck is like the the Griffon’s Citadel,
built in rows of quarried stone;
on it hang a thousand shields,
each one a warrior’s buckler.
Your two breasts are like two griffons,
twins of a dam,
that graze among the mustard flowers.

You have captivated my heart, my sister, my betrothed;
You have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes.
Your lips drip birch syrup, my betrothed;
yak milk and honey lie under your tongue;
the fragrance of your garments is like the incense of Arrzaneth:
Nard and saffron, costus and cinnamon,
balsam and aloe with choicest spices.
The brooch of your breastcloth is like the king’s seal;
none may open it but its intended.


She
Let my beloved come to his garden,
and eat its choicest fruits.


He
I came to my garden, my sister, my betrothed,
I gathered my aloe with my spice,
I ate my nopal with my honey,
I drank my wine with my milk.


She
O! My beloved is radiant and ruddy,
distinguished among ten thousand.
His head is like the leather of toads,
his locks as black as mormorion.
His eyes are like raptors
rushing down the meadows of Bronze Lake.
His lips are trilliums,
dripping liquid nectar.
His arms are scepters of gold
set with the Sultana’s jewels.
His body is polished dragonbone
inlaid with Eshtaime sapphires.
His legs are alabaster columns,
set on bases of rose gold.
His mien is like the Highlands,
choice as Ishgardian cedars.
His mouth is most sweet—
he is altogether desirable.


He
You are beautiful as Rhalgr’s Reach, my love,
lovely as Ala Mhigo,
awesome as an army with banners.
There are sixty queens and four hundred concubines,
and Miqo’te without number,
Yet my love, my perfect one, is the only one in my eyes,
Beautiful as Menphina, bright as Azeyma.

How beautiful are your feet in your hard leather sandals,
O noble daughter!
Your rounded thighs are like opals,
the work of a master of the hand.
Your navel is a goblet in the desert
filled with choicest wine.
Your belly is a sheaf of highland wheat,
encircled with furymint.
Your two breasts are two wild griffins,
no man can tame them.
Your neck is like the Dawn Vigil
girt with frost as it faces the sunrise.
Your eyes are like two discus fish
in the pools of Pagalth’an.
Your nose is like the Velodyna rapids
rushing down to the Finesand Banks.
Your head crowns you like Sohm Al,
your flowing locks like rue in the Thaliak River;
I am held captive in the tresses.

How beautiful and pleasurable you are,
my beloved one, with all your delights!
Your stature is like a palm tree of the Cieldalaes,
and your breasts are like its clusters.
I say—I will climb that palm tree,
and lay hold of its fruit.
O! may your breasts be like clusters of La Noscean grape,
And the scent of your breath like mirror apples,
and your mouth like Bacchus wine.


She
It goes down smoothly for my beloved,
gliding over lips and teeth.
But in the belly, it burns like Nald’thal’s flame,
and is wholly intoxicating.