She called me as a duck, and blithe
Into her freeky heart came down
And I moan in disgrace, and with
Filthy mind she wears royal gown.
I went to fetch water, for
All roses, withered and dancing, upon my haunch
Poured their allure
Again, to plunge into a chance.
I was quite worthy to be anyone's pray
I paced slowly upward
And my heartache did my pitcher allay
Although I had no word.
But she, in her profound sapience
To my pitcher did cast her lance;
It thousand pieces in a span
Became, when I was late or vain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem