Classic Poem

When Marco passed, all young men
Leaned to see his eyes, Sodoms
Where the fires of love burning mercilessly
Your poor hut, O Friendship cold;
Danced around mystical perfumes
Where the soul is crying annihilated,
On her red hair slipping charm;
Her dress made strange music
When Marco happening.

When Marco sang, his hands on ivory
Often evoked the black depth
Primitive that no air has redits,
And his voice rose in paradise
The great symphony of dreams
And enthusiasm was carrying
To the heavens known anyone listening
This stamp money that vibrated without truces
When Marco sang.

When Marco was crying, her terrible tears
Defied the brilliance of the finest weapons;
His lips were racing their crimson blood
And despair had nothing human;
Like in the home that oil exasperates
His anger grew red, and it would
Said a lioness to the harsh forest
Communicating his terrible anger
When Marco crying.

When Marco danced, its shimmering skirt
Came and went like a tide,
And, as a flexible bamboo, its side
Writhing, which protrude its white breast
Lightning left. His leg marble
Emphatically cynical shrug
Its splendor dull, and it was
Wind noise of the night in a tree
When Marco dancing.

When Marco was asleep, oh! what amber fragrance
And flesh mingled oppressed the room!
Under the sheets exquisite topline
Undulated, and in the shadow of the curtains
The breath went up, rhythmic and light;
A happy and peaceful sleep closed
His eyes, and that sweet mystery charmed
Waves objects among the shelf,
When Marco was asleep.

But when she loved the waves of lust
Overflowed and injury
Out a red blood who smokes and end
This cruel crime absolves his body;
Torrent broke the dikes of the soul,
Drowning thought, and upset
Everything in its path and bounced
Flexible and devouring as flame
And then froze.