We thrust and parry
Then step aside for the occasional respite-
This complex minuet we're born to
This waltzing with weapons drawn
Ready to strike, defend, or acquiesce:
Man and woman- never worshiped
At the altar of either
Instinctive distrust reigns
The known is cheapened by words
Even sleeping virgins are tainted
The world makes whores and liars
Of the humblest saint- beware,
The daggers tongue is never satisfied
Except by fresh blood
Even if the wound be ancient.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem