Graceful son of Pan! About your forehead, crowned with flowerets and berries, your eyes, precious balls, are in motion. Stained with brown sediment, your cheeks deepen in hollows. Your fangs flash. Your chest is like a zither, your blond arms are astir with tinklings. Your heart is beating in that belly where the double sex sleeps. Walk out at night, softly moving that thigh, that second thigh, and that left leg. |