She floated down from the auroras of night
in a squall of milkweed floss.
On a carpet of butterfly wings,
she emerged on a white horse,
riding bareback— straight out of Venus,
emitting golden beams of love.
Her shapely body—a mermaid out of water.
What does she want from an old man
with tired blood on a naked road of loneliness?
He scratched his head, and wondered:
Could she live in a human way?
She rode across fields of wild flowers,
no mountain too high, ascending peak after peak—
an ecstasy of pleasures.
Is she crying for pleasure or is she in pain?
Rays of summer solstice offered an invitation with terrible clarity:
It was time to rejoice!
Her blood-hot fingers reached out and touched me.