by: Marguerite Burnat-Provins (translated by: Cassie Berman)

You told me: "I am not worthy of you." And you hid

your face from me.

But my kiss found it, and slipped lightly over your

sweet golden temples where magic lies asleep.

What do you know about yourself? Nothing.

You know nothing of the charm and freshness that play

around your beauty.

You know nothing of your laughter, similar to that of

fountains.

You've never seen the shining nimbus that circles your

head during times I wish were fatal, they give me so much

happiness.

You've never seen your eyes where the whole sky catches

fire and dies in the pleasure of my caresses.

You don't hear the words which dissolve my soul and lead

it toward paradise.

You don't know anything, so shut up.