After Eden; Eve's Cry

Dear Adam, my beloved husband,
Bone of my flesh, my substance;
My face is a tear wrinkles catch,
Snatched quick by the fierce sun,
And I sit by Gihon's thirsty glance,
Where vultures search in the sand,
A bone of a name you and I sang.
Now on dry twigs long have I hang,
Melodious harps of a distant past,
Whose remnants echo in a trance,
About a garden; Oh Eden my heart!
If only your dew of tender touch,
Did once more smear on my hand,
Which but now is cold on the bunk,
With warm ashes of Abel, my son;
Adam, Adam! What have I done?