As a butterfly
so slowly ripples
a spotless lily of exquisite curves,
just so this earring,
this wild, strange earring,
dances, plays with its shadow and swerves.
May that soft air
breathed in your shadow
return to the source from whence it had gushed!
And may your swaying
stir up a breeze,
by which the overhot heart is refreshed!
Oh, earring, ’tis magic
that set you in motion,
or is it those lips in motion below?
Who feeds on the sherbet
of life without death,
and with the small soul above binds her soul?