At fifty-six, seven, eight, it doesn't matter
From street X, if you knock on the door
First one knock, then three more
We let you in
br/>Alone and sometimes even accompanied
A servant, without saying a word to you, precedes you
Stairs, endless corridors one after the other Tooth
Decorated with baroque bronzes, golden angels
Aphrodites and Salomes
If it is free, say you want the forty-four
This is the room they call here
Operaic keyhole including the rococo style bed columns
Are negroes carrying torches
Between these naked slaves carved from ebony
Who will be the mute witnesses of this scene
While up there a mirror reflects us
Slowly I embrace melody