The Lovers
Beauty is meaningless
until it is shared.
If he had one person, just one,
to halve his loneliness!
She dreams of a visitor,
but no one comes.
She dreams of the sky
and its great expanse.
The gods have abandoned
her to this desert.
What is the point of a gift
if it cannot be shared?
Even the animals gather in flocks,
huddled together for warmth.
She looks at her pale arms,
her long neck, her white feet;
she touches them with wonder.
She wonders at the smallness
of her breasts, the roundness of her belly.
How can she know
if they are beautiful, if she is alone?
What is beauty without a witness?
AKSHR
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