I once knew man, that knew nothing of love,
Not of the joy of site nor the agony of thought.
A stranger to its twisted form of art,
As a blind man throwing a dart.
One day he met a woman whose name was Lilith,
He spoke of her as a goddess of the most ancient myth.
The site of this girl was of pure innocence,
But the soul had a rancid smell to de very core.
There encounter was of mere luck,
In a day of learning he might say.
He noticed who she liked to play,
That woman did it all, to make his mind run amuck.
This man was no idiot, he noticed the change,
His body and mind were under the control of a mage.
The type of enchantment only a demon can make,
What the pleasures of the flesh cannot break.
He ignored his consciousness,
He gave into his instincts.
Like a weak man to his mistress;
Devouring the small ball pink.
The women was stealing his life,
Her mere stare staved his chest like a knife.
Depriving him of himself,
The he; he once knew had melt.
In a cold afternoon of wandering in his thoughts,
An idea came to his mind, as a bullet going through a wall of moths.
He would make a daring choice, to enjoy both love and hate,
Or to return to the dark and cold world he knows,
Yes that was his choice.
What happened next I still ignore,
If he lived the life of a man in love;
If he returned to the black core I ignore,
What I do know for sure is that his life will change,
He will no longer be estranged,
For he has found love, like spare change.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem