my first beloved
is not named laura and not liliana
she doesn't dance and doesn't sleep and isn't alive
she does not resemble god

my second beloved
opens the window to youthful april
i see the joyful larks rise
how beautiful they must be

my third beloved
is rich beyond her shoulders
she gives me peace and desire, just as she likes
she still owes me her acquaintance

my fourth beloved
limps. as i looked around me
as we were leaving the chastised city
my gaze grazed her leg

my fifth beloved
fell into my wineglass
as she kissed me. she's in there
and will never come thence

my seventh beloved
is the same as the sixth
i doubled her. they keep having
to weep over themselves

Translated by Donna Stonecipher