Pride, still variable, took command
and muted that loud, fanfare band
that heralded loves of longing born
and left them deafened, dumb, forlorn.
Slight logic then expelled by lust
pride's bayonet skewered my naive trust.
Speak soft, hallowed communion
of matters dark and dubious
of subjects sly and lecherous,
the dart releasing lash
and the juggernaut's procedure,
the Mardi Gras is banned
in Love's decayed cathedral.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem