<div><span style="font-size: 1rem;">How many a day, a night I'd spend</span><br></div><div>with a woman, stark as a statue outlined,</div><div>her face aglow as she turns to her mate</div><div>like softly radiant candle light;</div><div><br></div><div>her breast like the flare of a generous fire</div><div>by chilled men lit in the desert at night</div><div>in the wind come roving across the hills,</div><div>north, south, at the caravan staging posts.</div><div><br></div><div>Clear-cheeked, in her teens, so playful yet</div><div>that she makes me forget my clothes when I leave;</div><div>with rounds like the dunes that as children we loved</div><div>to tread for their smooth and velvety touch.</div><div><br></div><div>When her lover strips her, wanting all,</div><div>she leans to him lightly, holding back;</div><div>slim at the waist and firm as she twists</div><div>with quickening breath from intoxicant lips.</div><div>&nbsp;</div><div>Translation by Charles Greville Tuetey from Imrulkais Of Kinda, Poet, Circa</div><div><br></div><div>bnbd24/fas</div>