She stayed as a guest and yesterday felt
That with me she is already bored.
Kisses and caresses, no, she has not forgotten —
But for fullness I am too little for her.

A lover with experience like no one else’s,
With chin lifted, a magnetized gaze
Will not let go of her own, will tear from another’s —
She hurries after the next train.

Do not try to hold her —
A Gypsy wind blows through the cages.
Bless her and take no offense,
Let the next one know bliss as well.

(Song of Songs — to the Muse. The 564th is also for her)