I washed out all your seven colors;
Except the black, the color of dark;
The shades of the mid-night hours;
The shadows of the straight powers;
Making love with those pearls and gems;
Glittering on your soft tiny *******.

I plucked all your sinful flowers;
Except the black, the color of death;
The strong paint of the wooden coffin;
The wrong attack within a sudden pain;
Making lust with those heavenly bodies;
Tempting in an external smell of the souls.
**
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com