Classic Poem

Young man, you who stand in the stone-paved plaza of this castle city,
your origin, that you've come from the foul countryside,
is revealed in your bare feet wearing not even sandals.
Look, far up the worn stone staircase rising from your feet,
look at my frightful face as I stand filling the pantheon.
You who stand precisely at right angle to the ground as an innocent sundial
drag not only your own shadow in the summer afternoon,
you are dragging along with you the smell of country soil,
the smells of plants, smell of water, smell of cow dung.
I like the ignorant glitter of astonishment in your staring eyes.
I like the youthful darkness, almost fragrant, of your mouth, agape.
My lust must chew up your astonishment, ignorance, the whole of your youth.
My mouth slit to the ears is for kissing you,
for sucking you to the marrow, beginning with the flesh of your lips it kisses.
The scarlet of my cheeks must be freshly re-dyed with your blood.
Come, young man, you've stared at me, you no longer can escape from me.
Behind the bloody wedding of you and me
the world will burn like the city of sin in the legend.
Our being is always burning like it.