No more sad songs
Like a lily or a lotus
You grow from water
A sierra shooting star
Red, hot, moist.


Your lips will smile again
Cry even, of joy and gay
No more sad songs
No more mandrake or nightshade


Only roses and cherry blossoms
Shall grace your sensitive skin
Sensual, sweet salacious saltarello
We dance until dawn


My satyromania, your insatiable desire
Satisfied, for now.
We dream of happiness
Intertwined in our endless pursuit.