She knows I am doing her a favor,
With quick breaths of passionate labor,
She slows to catch her wind,
And to give his instrument a rest,
We start again in slower cadence,
She in all her radiance,
Her young body making music,
Of its own accord,
Her voice tries to sing,
With words unintelligible ring
De Capo—De Capo.
Gooseflesh rises to her body’s surprise,
As her song shivering to me in crescendos cry.
She is doing me a favor,
She all satisfied,
Istesso tempo–Istesso tempo.
We both pant,