However loving is your ingenious saying,
I know when you lie for doing at my will:
Surprisingly, the color of the look is changing
And for a moment, the eyes stumble and still.
How dear are you then! How much I love your lie!
You are completely into, you, real and bold,
Candid, full of vices, which ceaselessly pry
Within the sin that shine same as the pure gold.
No guilty: Under you, the harm is rangy horse,
That shatters fetters, hearts, to reach where you bid,
Cruelty is a keen spur into the Fondness’s rib,
Red pearls drip from black pleasures, without remorse.

With your perfidious angels, you lure the light
And open the sky, lugging it into your hell, with might.

Wednesday, April 13, 1955