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
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.