So little of what we observe, is the girlherself. Elaborate, scented coiffers. Adieud’amour. Vast is the heirs ballroom. Let therich give you presents. Heaven pours fromher throat, as she sings and as she dances.The fumes of rich swine, honeyglazed anddripping, playing in the air. My mouth eagerand wishing. But I return to thisnightingale. Her hair all fiery red. Deep it isand wild. my weakness will be fed. Boyswhipped on the alter of diana, sometimesuntil they died. The cunning wilymerchant, and his four crippled horses. Talestold in warlike manner. The storyteller bythe fire . While musing deeply on this sight,the songster stirred my desire. You aresweet and fine to listen to. Long tressesabout her neck. Yet much is false. Thismighty evening, I’ve seen no face. This iscrushing me. My quill it aches. Turn loosethe swans that drew my poets craft. I’lldwell in desolate cities. You burned mywings. I leave this ode, splendid victoriousthrough the carnage. I wanted to touchthem all. I wanted to touch them all.