Under a titian canopy of aphrodisia,
the king of Persians observes you,
his hedonic head leaning slantwise

He bequeaths unto you, a primrose path
imbued with ecru nymphs
who are content with stroking you with liberal palms

This emperor; this resolute contender and keeper of slaves
smoothes a silken place beside him
and beckons you to come with a stringent finger

Layers of crimson frill grant you leisure
as you comply and seat yourself precisely
where his authoritative hand had been

The stink of his befouled sweat,
which seems to rain from his waxy, copper skin
finds its potent way to your nostrils-
as does the aura of nakedness,
perfumed with the essence of sexuality
and efflorescent oils

A proposition of betrayal of your own kind,
molded attractively from your preceding rejection,
is compassionately set in your lap

What say you, to your abandonment?
Forgive the one of virtue, who turned from you-
or submit to Xerxes as entire nations have before you?