Your body has ripened into the season of apples,
and I go to the orchard in a state of high excitement,
ready to pluck your sensuous fruit.
My lips and tongue explore your fragrant skin,
my teeth first nibble at the red jacket,
then sink deeply into your downy pulp,
leaving their sacred marks in your sweet flesh.
The forbidden apples,
the apples of knowledge,
quite, quite forbidden.
(How one longs to know them!)
The forbidden apples,
the apples of knowledge,
quite, quite forbidden.
(How one longs to know them!)
O, how exquisitely delicious you are,
smoother than honey,
more succulent than the grape,
as intoxicating as blossoming roses.
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