In haughty, yet elegant tone, I say to you "do this to me," and I point at the arabesque vines in the courtyard. Found in jovial play, the knife you gave my body with the wilted roses from your hands. Hands that pilfer! Hands that shake as they cut into me. Forever of redolence; the thorns in my side, and your blue eyes, so lustful, they still rip into me.
