we have opened the door to our heart and let you in,
to find that we are the stranger and you are the friend.
base desire has so clothed the mind, we have forgotten
our soul is beauty, but covered by clothes soiled and rotten.
the foul rags of the filthy mind are now so de jure,
we are loath to strip naked and all falsity abjure.
we have no hope of helping ourselves in this matter;
we so love our own modesty- ‘though it be in tatters!
maybe a kind arsonist will douse us with petrol,
and swift courage will renounce pretension with vitriol?
lord and master, forgive us for our dull stupidity,
that is only surpassed by our vain cupidity!
darvish coyly glances at the beloved with a whim:
maybe he will hold his nose and completely undress him!