Armpits smell of linden blossom,
lilacs give a whiff of ink.
If only we could wage love-making
all day long without end,
love so detailed and elastic
that when the nightfall came,
we would exchange each other
like prisoners of war, five times, no less!
— Vera Pavlova, “53,” If There is Something to Desire: One Hundred Poems. Translated by Steven Seymour. (Knopf; 1St Edition edition January 19, 2010)