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A homoerotic poem by St. John of the Cross (1542-1591), 'On a Dark Night' purports to be about Jesus. In it, John of the Cross slips out of his house at night to meet his lover, and caress him. Luckily for him, he wasn't caught and burned at the stake like a bundle of twigs, i.e. a faggot.
On a Dark Night
On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings
- oh, happy chance! -
I went forth without being observed,
My house now being at rest.
In darkness and secure,
By secret ladder, disguised
- oh, happy chance! -
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being at rest.
In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide, save that which
burned in my heart.
This light guided me More surely than
the light of noonday
to the place where He
( well I knew who! ) was awaiting me
- A place where none appeared.
Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined
Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!
Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for Himself alone,
there He stayed sleeping,
and I caressed Him,
and the fanning of cedars made a breeze.
The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted His locks;
With His gentle hand
He wounded by neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.
I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased
and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.
On a Dark Night
On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings
- oh, happy chance! -
I went forth without being observed,
My house now being at rest.
In darkness and secure,
By secret ladder, disguised
- oh, happy chance! -
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being at rest.
In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide, save that which
burned in my heart.
This light guided me More surely than
the light of noonday
to the place where He
( well I knew who! ) was awaiting me
- A place where none appeared.
Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined
Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!
Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for Himself alone,
there He stayed sleeping,
and I caressed Him,
and the fanning of cedars made a breeze.
The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted His locks;
With His gentle hand
He wounded by neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.
I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased
and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.
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Massachusetts
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Re: On a Dark Night
Sat, July 4, 2009 - 8:22 AMI love this poem. In another translation, there's also a setting of it by Loreena McKennit on her The Mask and the Mirror album.
I'd say it doesn't just purport to be about Jesus but is about Jesus--and about erotic connection in general, both together, simultaneously, and inseparably. Much like the tradition of uses of the Song of Songs from which it derives. What a holy shmozzle that is--a collection of ancient Near Eastern sex lyrics embarassingly ensconced amidst the Hebrew Bible.
But yeah, John of the Cross was lucky not to fall on the wrong side of the Inquisition.
