“Poured from the palm of a girl dressed as boyAn intrigue for one of any orientationShe lifts the carafe against the black nightHer face lit with brilliant radiationSending from the jug’s lip a stream so brightThat eyes, in its glare, close as in sedationWine so fine, so pure and delicateTo add water would be contaminationWith light alone may it be mixedGiving off dazzling illumination”