You were written to me,
Not to my depression, not to my sadness
But to my true, powerful self--and without any pity.
Watch your body frail, young girl,
and a storm of thoughts...infernal rages...
my blood and my bones I dictate what I have to do
I will give way to any mischief,
your being feeble was written mighty in me.
And, you are the prey that I have long expected
to fall into my clutches.
I play alone at night--and I sing,
And, as an accomplice of crimes, I look at my sex, wild
in erection;
He will go through your soft flesh and leave indescribable traces.
And are you now happy...
So many nights of pain, fever, and delirium...
So many bumps which I baked in the heart
will break--and will flow into you with the first ejaculation.
