Kranile

Kranile surges before me in vision: her naked breasts,
The acrid odour of her sex, this perverted saint,
Hot with the heat of her flesh; guests for her guests
The nudity of her flesh, her provoking paint;
And in her eyes an agate that caresses her mouth
In its savage and saltless and wordless perversity;
Haunches that ache with desire, her execrable youth
Of the beast pernicious, malicious, in bestiality;
Knees abnormal that give one hallucination;
She with her velvet veils, her Sabbatical soul;
Violent in voluptuousness, weary of her dance's creation,
Dragging her culpable beauty to I know not what distant goal;
Tired of being an idol adored, she in her frenzy begins
Gestures that symbolise Death. Ah, the intense obsession
She makes me shiver with! She sins for her people's sins;
Vicious not vain she makes of her body confession.
If she had only willed it, she the provoking
Creature that suffocates one by her savorous impurity,
Surely she had given herself to me when her flesh was smoking,
Healed me of some of my sins, given me some of my purity.
She the desire of my Flesh, she the desire of my Vices,
She alone loves me and hates me; ah, her crudity
Of vision, she is vacant of vision, she is odorous of spices.
All of my nudity aches for her, she aches for my nudity.