Although shackled by her arms,
crushed by the weight of her breasts,
Lacerated by her fingernails, his lip bitten by her teeth,
trapped under her hips, his head twisted around
as she yanked his hair,
The lovely lover, drunk on the mead flowing from her lips,
somehow experienced pleasure—
Oh, paradoxical indeed is the way of love!

When they started making love, as much a deadly battle
as a sexy game,
the girl, in an attempt to conquer her lover,
did something rash—she got on top of him!
And then, because of all the energy that demanded,
her pelvis stopped churning, her arms fell limp and loose,
her bosom heaved, and her eyes closed.
Is that not just how it goes
when a woman tries to display
the heroism of a warrior?

In the morning her lover saw that
her breast had been scratched, streaked scarlet by his nails,
her eyes were bloodshot from sleeplessness,
her lipstick was smudged,
the flowers had fallen from her disheveled hair,
and her skirt had slipped loose from its golden
girding cords;
So it was that his heart was impaled
by these five arrows of Love darting in through his eyes.
Oh, how marvelous that was!