她出生在火焰的季节，当一层黑暗的斗篷笼罩在深红色毁灭者的前面，没有人知道她的父亲的名字，除了女人;而她，脸色灰白，躺在母性的剧痛中。她来了，天空一片火红，带来了可怕的噩讯;惊慌失措的羽翼在炎热、沉重的空气中击鼓，那里传来昆虫的嗡嗡声，突然而尖锐，当它们逃离那座地狱之山时。于是烟蛇在她的发髻里扭动;火焰在她的嘴唇上紧紧地吻着;她对他们热烈的爱抚微微一笑，就像一个浪荡子在微笑，却压抑了情人的热恋，于是从想要搂住她臀部的手臂上滑了下来。她的到来和流行的时间是这样的:她的白昼还要过多久才会消逝，她去重燃往日的激情，她的目光在死者长长伸直的四肢上一闪而过，他们躺在冬天潮湿的床上?在那里，常绿的宽阔的波浪带着悲伤而柔和的海浪的歌声，奔向那些长着羽毛的队伍，奔向那些永远停留在河边的干枯的血树林，它们被铁链锁住，在河边吟唱着挽歌。这是在为死去的人唱挽歌吗?那些被杂草缠绕，躺在漩涡和水沟里的陌生人?一只肿胀的手，一件衣服，当水冲过时，轻轻拍打着碎片，漂浮物，布满了泡沫，飞得很高。 Is it there that she buries her lovers, This woman in scarlet and black? Those swart caballeros, the drovers? What sovranty set they above hers? Riding in by a drought-beset track To a fate which is worse than the rack. A queen, no insignia she weareth Save the dark, lustrous crown of her hair: Her beauty the sceptre she beareth: For men and their miseries careth As little as tigresses care For the quivering flesh that they tear. She is sweet as white peppermint flowers, And harsh as red gum when it drips From the heart of a hardwood that towers Straight up: she hath marvellous powers To draw a man's soul through his lips With a kiss like the stinging of whips. Warm nights, weighted down with wild laughter, When sex is unsexed and uncouth: In the chorus that climbs to the rafter No thought of the days to come after: She has little regret and less ruth As she tempts men to murder their youth. Is she marked down as yet by the flaming Great eye of the Righter of Wrong? How long ere the Dreaded One, claiming His due, shall make end of our shaming? `How long, Mighty Father, how long?' Is our wearisome burden of song. A queen, no insignia she weareth Save the dark, lustrous crown of her hair: Her beauty the sceptre she beareth: For men and their miseries careth As little as tigresses care For the quivering flesh that they tear. She is sweet as white peppermint flowers, And harsh as red gum when it drips From the heart of a hardwood that towers Straight up: she hath marvellous powers To draw a man's soul through his lips With a kiss like the stinging of whips. Warm nights, weighted down with wild laughter, When sex is unsexed and uncouth: In the chorus that climbs to the rafter No thought of the days to come after: She has little regret and less ruth As she tempts men to murder their youth. Is she marked down as yet by the flaming Great eye of the Righter of Wrong? How long ere the Dreaded One, claiming His due, shall make end of our shaming? `How long, Mighty Father, how long?' Is our wearisome burden of song.