Angelic at first glance, they are beautiful –
Cunning, true – but you remain doubtful;
Eyelids flutter and you cannot help falling:
Graceful. Charming. Who would they hurt?
Imagination cannot create these jezebels,
Kin of demons and spirits of faithless lust.
Motions of their hips draw you ever near –
Oblivious, you follow their plan perfectly,
Quietly obeying and completely relenting.
Seducing you is easy as counting to three:
Usually just a rabbit-chase for the vixens,
Women as heartless as a marble xoanon –
Yearning for none but their power’s zenith.