I awarded you the boy's beauty.
I gladly dedicated him undiseased and whole
that he might prove the belief in depraved swans,
the tedious theories of celestial assault.
Had your thighs quivered, your nipples hardened properly,
I would not have ordered the mutilation of his face,
the unpanicked dissection of his glory.
But to our relief you honoured with kisses
the thick neck of your husband,
and under thе table manoeuvred
his sausagе fingers beneath your dress.
Now we include you in all our fantasies,
continue to swear by your legendary flanks.
Our ships from the middle of the ocean,
guided by the sun's gleam on your belly,
resume their commerce between your colossus knees,
and a thousand clumsy poets
lay their stricken heads upon your breasts to sing.