By the rains, my darling, by the brown-coloured grains in the field, by the fish and the meat we eat, by the blessed cow heavy with mi8lk , by the plough the scythe, the wind-blown full sail, I say, no poet ever toys with the heart, If I ever betray and besmear my tongue, please turn then into a lightning shaft and with the thunderbolt of dovorce pierce my heart. My kisses will always caress your body, my dear, free and unabashed, like a fleet of waves breaking against the tender breast of a duck floating on the dark waters of a river at night. If I ever act contrary to this. then I swear by my passionate verse, let the fiercest curse of God befall me...