Galatea

She loftily conceives
Whatever truth deceives
Her desirability and prudence
Leaves the moon in abeyance
She will practice the art of tradition
While she flies along in the lotus position
She is the refined traveler of rain
While telling stories about loves terrain
She serves us tea made from roots of sea holm
Then she will teach us how to write a poem
Within her train is all creation
On both sides of celestial inspiration
Suffering on for her constancy
This wondrous child of fancy
When she returns to paradise
All light will be lost to be precise
Last canto like words in a starlit chain
Until the time that earth returns to Pygmalion clay and cold again.

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