Iachimo's confession...

Imogen...seductress mine...
your deep designs whence I find...
Beside the shadowy lunar scape
Water dripping by your nape...
After bath for my eyes agape...
Ripe peach toppings me wish to taste...
with no hurry...no mortal haste...
I embark upon your cool summer lake...
I embark...
Like a slow feathery song of dew
To implant that blushful hue
Across your terrain wide like a chill
With a mild shiver we would each other kill...

O Imogen...
Siren mine...
Beads of glass on you how shine
like beads of sweat accumulated
On your navel...by passion thus clearly stated...
And that black mole under your breast
Is my only witness
To the adultery I take you to
To the mischief I play part into...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How many times, love,

Still remember the day