Motet after Josquin Desprez

Voluptuous strains carrying

I, caught in the slipstreams sung

Finding myself in the clouds

Yet, clear as lullabies rung

Upon my disembodied mind

Floating on their sonic waves

Resting on their dulcet cords

That I may be in deep accord

Was not creation a note hung?

Upon a resounding voice wrung

To dance to its unction sublime

To its rhythm and rhyme

And thus we complete its poem

Grand, sacred and divine.

Cheung-Ling Wong

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