Si al imán de tus gracias, atractivo,
sirve mi pecho de obediente acero,
¿para qué me enamoras lisonjero
si has de burlarme luego fugitivo?

Mas blasonar no puedes, satisfecho,
de que triunfa de mí tu tiranía:
que aunque dejas burlado el lazo estrecho

que tu forma fantástica ceñía,
poco importa burlar brazos y pecho
si te labra prisión mi fantasía.

If to the magnet of your graces' pull,
my heart responds like an obedient steel,
to what end do you court me, flattering
if later you will mock me, fugitive?

But don't think you can boast, self-satisfied,
that your tyranny triumphs over me:
for though you've fled and the tight noose have mocked

that once encircled your fantastic form,
I care not that you mock my arms and breast
for in my mind's own prison you are locked.

                     (©Alix Ingber, 1995)