Your lips half part in a painted smile,
Hiding your thoughts, revealing but your guile;
Your dark-veiled, dusky, Saracenic eyes
Look down, and look but to despise
The fools who bend to kiss your dainty feet;
Your scornful, mocking lips are poison-sweet
As hasheesh mingled with Shirazi wine. . . .
And yet your lovers gather at your shrine,
Pale simulacrum wreathed in mystery:
Infatuated by your sorcery,
Lured by flame and shadow alternate,
They worship you who neither love nor hate.
Saturday, 23 September 2023
Good Reading; "Astarte" by E. Hoffmann Price (in English)
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