Poetry / Women
Women,
With countless treasures,
We want to read, hungrily,
In your secret parchments
Where are written our morrows
Our hopes and our errancies
Of an ink with indefinable colours
Which draw labyrinths for our souls
And plait silk threads for our bodies
Women,
Look at us, poor adventurers,
Will-o’-the-wisp on cold gems
Tossed about in your humid breath
Candles in your sleek fingers
You question us, always
When we think we understand
The sole harangue of your sweet flesh
Under our passionate caresses
Women,
Laugh about our foolish vanity
Scholars we see ourselves, so brilliant
To write the great esoteric book
Or to decipher the marvellous enigmas
We the men, poor alchemists
Got lost in our medieval beliefs
Misled by our instincts, our memories
And all our polite bearings
Women,
Love our hidden candour,
Behind the sombre curtains
Of our anguishes and our bravados
Unsure under the wrinkled sheets
Of our sleepless nights
We want nothing else
But hosting you in our refuge
And appeasing us in your love.
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Great meter!I liked this. It seemed traditional which I think was a good choice when talking about women’s influence on men through history.
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