My beloved,
rose over his legs,fearless like death.On his firm face,an array of fine lines-was tailored by the revolt-of his limbs.My beloved surely belongs-to a faded clan.In the depths of his eyes, it seems-A Tartar is constantly on guard-for the advent of knights.In brightness of his teeth, it seems-a primal man- is patiently waiting-for cornering a prey.My…