Soon your beauty is going to be over:
your prime,
your unyielding muscles
your hardened breasts
so fruitful,
the aim of nature in your curves.
The termite of time,
like the apple worms
are going to devour the fruit of your youth
your crystalline teeth,
and soon
no man would ever look at you.
For no man has ever looked at you
the way I do.
No man has ever been intoxicated
from the Shiraz of your kiss
instead of the lush grapes of your lips
Nobody knows
how your beauty would forever deepen
in the thirst
of this intoxication,
for nobody ever pays attention
to the words between the lines of your beauty,
the thirst in the deep cavities of the deserts
when you do not rain,
in every design in any sculpture
in any artistic form, in any poetry.
