If you're looking for a woman,
Invent a city to find her in.
You should make her lose her origin,
In order for her to forget her native land,
The streets you walk must remain absent, without memory.
You must invent stories of delays,
Of thieves, of clandestine encounters,
You must guide her through old markets
And let her eyes peruse the wares from all four corners of the world,
You must observe closely her wish, on which delicate cloth her hands stop,
And make her happy:
But desire nothing yourself, let your only desire be her.
You know well that women are citadels
Inhabited by strangers,
Citizens who hate and drive you back,
And it is to that conquest, to that war that you must go,
Thoughtfully, without haste,
Disguised as a hermit, purposeless,
And like a hidden who that at the first opportunity
Steals the sacred jewel.
But don't forget the premise:
The woman you are looking for already knows you.
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