I squeeze rose petals And pour the juice on
Your shaven mound,
And watch the drops
Trickle down between your
Petals, which are rosier
Than the flower I crushed.
Your shaven mound,
And watch the drops
Trickle down between your
Petals, which are rosier
Than the flower I crushed.
I smell the open lips
And taste them.
Ah! How well the rose juice
and your own have blended.
Ignorant people say I
Am a fool to worship flesh.
Tell me if it is wrong to worship
The Unknown?
For, has any human language
Described the smell or taste
of a woman’s skin?