The Beauty and the Thief

When she was young, she was beautiful
Her hair was clear, made from spun glass, which sang like
    violins when the comb was drawn past
Her nipples were turquoise,
    Cut so perfectly from the stone,
    That at a certain angle they were transparent,
    And the inside of her body was shown
Her blood had a strong and bitter taste,
Her beauty grew with her age,
Now she is so beautiful that any who sleeps with her,
    Would die.

Now there's a man with a list just as bizarre,
Of things he has sacrificed to call loves from afar,
A cane so fine of wood and bone
It would lead the bearer to his home
A box in metal, miraculously cast,
It could speak the man's mind
When the wind would blow past,
Spun glass whose sting would linger
And one by one he had sacrificed every finger.

And it's clear that
For this most beautiful wife he was to sacrifice his life.

As for their child there really isn't too much to say,
It was ugly and, fortunately for the mother who had to shut
    herself away,
A thief of great talent.
Like that he supported her,
Being the only human not seduced by her.

But it must be added
It was no accident he'd find -
    ( For a thief of such great talent has higher designs ) -
A fine cane of bone and wood,
Which for many months alone it stood
And then he stole a metal box which said,
"I am to be added as the head".
And from the glass the hair was spun,
The hair which covers the head, the chest, the arms and then,
The fingers were added one by one.

And so ...
Somewhere is living these strange three,
The beauty and the pure spirit you never will see
But perhaps someday you will be robbed by the thief,
Whose treachery and ugliness
Are far beyond belief.

1982 Paris                      next->