This is a love poem titled "Honi Soit Qui Mal y Pense."
Translates more or less is evil to him who thinks evil.
And the first two syllables of the first word are italicized
and so I say it strangely.
Metaphysical not pornography, to say we balanced each other.
Some thought it bad to exercise unless trying to have children.
If we had 1,000 it wouldn't be enough but just crowded.
On a lonely isle, you are my idea.
In a slow dream of going across China, you are company.
But still I don't love you because I have no choice.
I love your voice saying nothing but moans.
No eyes, no moons, pushing the black back
by the virtues of your sex.
Which are those parts of you.
Heart but one, and that figurative, I enter into I
love.