Warming me slowly with mountains of melodic iciness,
Creeping up and unwinding, like a cobra, in the unctuous, eerie blueness –
The condor swoops down upon all listeners, choking them with winged licentiousness.
Down fathomless canyons her echoes are felt dropping.
From a witch’s fingertips she keeps haunting us with a spell, so enchanting,
Then the lakes of my eyes dissolve, my mind shuddering, as her voice starts ringing
When she caresses the scepter she pours her lungs into, by purring and whining.
Passionate, the robed goddess lunges into us with harmonic tongs,
Romantically wreaking beauty so enamored with words, that everyone longs;
Like a woman with a whip, we’re chained to her heels and her songs.