Number 13

From beneath a fine veil she shows her face, a delicate beauty in soft linen; a robber of hearts and minds, she carries off both soul and heart as plunder. Playful and drunk, a cup of wine in hand; her intoxicated, bloodthirsty eyes drink the blood of those who love her. A graceful cypress in stature, a lovely moon of a face; a world adorning sun, with a dawn glowing behind her ear. Her hair and curls are musky, locks that scatter the scent of ambergris; her sweetly smiling ruby lips are a wondrous fountain of honey. Her drunken eyes are highway robbers, her glance brings down its prey; a master hunter, with the snare of her hair slung over her shoulder. A silver tablet of a breast, a face flushed with color; playful, drunk, a sweetheart who drains the cup. A face like the radiant sun, the color of the shining moon; like a halo I have opened my arms wide in longing for her. Since the cupbearer of eternity has given you such a cup of light, from that wine you will stay drunk to the end of time.