There is nothing so fair and so bright
Their figures have no faults.
They look like fabrics of enchantment
Pied to heaven, their wisdom,
Stretching far beyond their years.
Robed in snowy white,
Never, degenerating, never degrading,
Despairing not and despising not,
They offer music
In the midst of desolation.
The sore-footed camels
And the sheep with thick wool
Have always looked at the mountains
With eyes full of wonder,
As wide as the sea.
So have the albatross and the eagle
Who never knew what strength was
Until they saw the mountains.
In the big busy towns while the light
Is flushed on white facades and balconies,
While the moon softly goes up,
With a star or two beside,
While the lover listens attentively
To the soft rustle of his maiden’s gown,
I lie down on my couch
In a silent and pensive mood
And commune with you secretly,
With my self-consciousness naked.
I think of God’s chisel
That chiseled you to such a beauty,
Allegorical, visceral and magical.
My emotions are set in motion
And my hopes in myriad hues
Scintillate on your breasts, round and brown.