1. I have become intoxicated with the wine of distress,
Dragging my cloak over the cold earth.

2. Morning is a burden in the belly of darkness,
And the wind is like a demon cleansed of sin.

3. Its breeze spreads over the flowers of the hillside
With a gaze that sees what cannot be seen,

4. A softness not woven to be worn,
Showing you weakness while powerful,

5. And a body that seems withered
Dusty as a coat covered with rust,

6. Floating in pure white like pearls,
Seeping into its depths the yellow of autumn,

7. Then rising from it with the innards of a wave.
It laughs at the likes of little girls,

8. Ascending though abased in pure white like a tear,
Or from the belly of a slim and well-built steed

9. As if a necklace of pearls that is coming undone.
Flashing in it like an unsheathed sword

10. That did not know when the steps fell short before it
Did its gown shade it, or was it bare?

11. For that is pleasure, not hunting game,
Flowing after it the roving glance,

12. Until exhausted, it is seen to have weakened.