Everyone knows the book about the king
his power, the counsellors and the grand
palace with all its inner gardens

full of wonderfully scented flowers
but I describe what I have learned
from experienced men, Horsehead

and Goldnavel, about pleasures
in the dark, behind the corners
where shadows cast secrets

of concealed doors to the corridors
through the silent basement maze
where desires are fulfilled

by round beds and soft
women who cover you with sun –
their backs wave and groan

as my nails write immortality
in their skin and their breath
hops like a hare or sighs

like a crescent moon with hairs
that rustle when they lie down
in the wake of my hand

I just let other people
work and rather feast
upon love, night and day