When you reveal that rosy face, you bring stones to dance with joy.
Once more, emerge from the veil for the sake of the lovers.
So that knowledge loses its way, and the wise break their traditions.
So that water becomes a pearl from your reflection, and fire abandons its battle.
I do not desire the moon with your beauty, nor those few hanging lanterns.
I do not compare the mirror with your face, nor the old rusted sky.
You breathed life and once again created a new form of this narrow world.
In the air of his Mars-like eyes, O Venus, play that harp again.