Do not seek her soul—
For care of your own sanity
Do not tempt her truth.
Because she gives it freely. Always
Inside the unblinking eyes of a woman:
Two stony stars gray in your demise as a man.
The oldest female design— A wise witch
Crowning balance in her rituals of death.
Her company of snakes coiled,
A bright hiss
Inside her ear offering her your blackest
Secrets and she smiles,
A pure smile, white in her delight—heavenly;
Cradling the constellations
Of your wilted pride
And eventual death if you stare long
Enough, trying to calculate her mysteries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love this poem for some reason. It speaks to me so loudly