by Breyten Breytenbach

    today I went down on your body

    while windows were thick white eyes

    and hearkened the clogged cavities

    in the small darkroom of your chest，

    hedging an eternity over the aching voice

    from your gorgeous throat，

    agony and exaltation flow in one divide

    if I may make so bold，

    your thighs are a loveword your hair

    night's glittering lining of secret disport：

    I aimed for the innermost moon

    and rent， moved by the syntax and the slow

    of sadness and of joy， so

    I love you， love you so

    when the blinding comes，

    the discomposure of silence，

    it must be high up the hills

    where hundreds of poor

    stamp their feet in the dust， and drums

    and woman voices like this ululating skyline

    gag the final ecstasy