Dark-eyed,
Woman of my dreams,
Mink sandaled,
There is none like you among the dancers,
None with swift feet.
I found nonelike you in the tents,
In the broken darkness.
I found nonelike you at the well
Among the women with pitchers.
Your arms are as a young sapling under the bark;
Your face as a river with lights.

Brown as chocolate are your shoulders;
New cocoa stripped from the husk.
They guard you not with eunuchs;
Not with bars of copper.

Gilt turquoise and silver are in the place of your rest.
A brown robe, with threads of gold woven in
patterns, has gathered about you, Nathat-Ikanaie, 'Tree-at-the-river'.

As a rillet among the sedge are your hands upon me;
Your fingers a frosted stream. Its' maidens brown like pebbles;
Their music overflows. There is none like you among dancers.

Ezra Pound

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