The most beautiful woman, she was,
She combed her hair, all of it pubic hair,
When she sat, she squatted,
A bloody woman, a horse of wind,
It kept occuring to me how deceptive she was.

Which of her parts most? Of course, her mouth.
Attuned to all the feelings,
An Alhambra of a mixture of kisses,
In the timeless sea of the sheets
Her tactile mouth went up and down.

Oh, my eyes, now,
Have begun a crying that keeps on going,
A woman’s shirt is shrouding me,
The blue of the day is on that
The rooster of the night is in that.

translated by Omer Kursat