You love to ogle skin
that forms the body of a young lady.
You trusted this panther without knowing her,
you drove your tulip spear into her.
She was taught to speak,
though she doesn't care a bit for flowers —
this smile craves flesh!
To blood! neophytes, to the arena!

The sexual union of Rome, the roar of the panther,
the steam of an orgy, convulsing pulses,
perfumes are interwoven in brains,
poets of the golden era! —
pour onto their heads to the brim
the luster of the moon, translucent wine
will fill your cells with the sea,
and tarry blood, and — look —

a sunburn, a streak and a cave,
is she a goddess, a beast or an abyss?
is she a rubber doll? skin?
or a Venus created by the sea?
a guitar in the fingers of lovelace,
craves elegant sounds to embrace.