Milk-white legs,
candy like candy,
as dark as chocolate,
or bitter as coffee.
They are nothing for this noble heart.
Instead your legs
with marks of the naughty girl that you were,
with traces of your cravings more delicious.
Those legs that love to dance in the rain,
run between the pasture
and tie my body next to yours.
They are the ones that make me tremble.
