There, in a place, where air is sparse,
Smoke is thick, and light is scarce,
Scattered colors that flash and shock
Lend but little visibility in the dark.
The door up front the large man protects
Is where the last of conscience is left,
So what’s taken in are intentions lacked
Of morals; flesh is the absolute want.
With luscious lies, favors are gained,
And shows of affection realistically feigned
Through silken touch and tight embrace,
And minimal dresses of satin or lace.
Ladies and gentlemen both lose inhibitions,
Civility’s neglected with reckless abandon;
Sensual cravings are satisfied
When Love’s a commodity—
—that can be bought at a price.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem