The poem
What fields are as fragrant as your hands? You feel how external fragrance stands upon your stronger resistance. Stars stand in images above. Give me your mouth to soften, love; ah, your hair is all in idleness.
See, I want to surround you with yourself and the faded expectation lift from the edges of your eyebrows; I want, as with inner eyelids sheer, to close for you all places which appear by my tender caresses now.