Como Cintas y el inutil de le belleza
by: Ernest John B. Tamana
They leave us,
We find them,
They come back.
We have them, not like those of boxes and gifts,
But, like the ribbons,
That has wrapped their vain in beauty.
Then, we’ll ask why they have left us,
We gaze in fires and spirits,
When they undress us,
Of happiness of slavery, of ecstasy, of virginity,
Of shame of mockery, of flirtations of emotions.
When they leave us,
To find them.