The Turk

A totally perverse Turk bought for himself,     Out of grief for the recent death     Of plump Fatme, his favorite wife,     From his white-slaver, two former mannequins, in quite good     condition -     You could almost say: brand new -     Just imported from France.     When he had them, he sang, in celebration of himelf:     Sit down on my thighs.     Hold me around my loins.     With your sweet tongues     Stroke my tearful cheeks.     Ah, you have such beautifully bejeweled     Eyes and such clear hands,     Weariest of my wives,     And such long, gentle legs.     Tomorrow I buy six pairs of new     Stockings of the thinnest silk     As well as very small, black silk shoes.     And in the evening you will dance     Soft, false dances     In the new silk shoes     And new silk stockings.     In the garden.    In the sun.     Close to the water.     But at night I'll have you whipped     By four smiling eunuchs.