Swank

Le vice Irlandais

In secret chambers where no eyes may pry,

A private passion, none can e'er deny.

Don Juan's hand, though idle of its chore,

Finds ways to make the weary heart restore.

A solitary dance, without a cue,

To pleasures old, yet strangely ever new.

With blushes none to see, nor scorn to hear,

He grasps at solace, none the worse for wear.

No lover's lips to kiss, no breasts to bare,

Yet Juan finds his joy in solo care.

For fleeting love may fail to warm the night,

But hands of self are steadfast in their right.

Through wit and will, he learns that body's joy

Needs no companion, nor a bashful coy.

A lonely jest, a laugh, and so it's done—

Don Juan's silent conquest, second to none.