Classic Poem

I paintedrouge on my lips,
and kissed the trunk of a new birch,
even if I were a handsome man,
on my chest are no breasts likerubber balls,
from my skin rises no fragrance of finetexturedpowder,
I am a wizened man of ill fate,
ah, what a pitiable man,
in today's balmy early summer field,
in a stand of glistening trees,
I slipped on my hands sky blue gloves,
put around my waist something like acorset,
smeared on my nape something like nape powder,
thus hushed assuming a coquettishpose,
as young girls do,
I cocked my head a little,
and kissed the trunk of a new birch,
I painted rosy rouge on my lips,
and clung to a tall tree of snowy white.