There are strangers like this, full of mystery, Who attract you simply by their refinement Protectors, guardians, true gentlemen, With a trace of incense and great dignity, Living in opulent rooms along wood-panelled halls.
Their wom leather sofas and wise, softened skin, Imprinted with age-old joys and chagrins, Embracing seekers, welcoming each and all, Men like this cast aside muzzles and Lovelace.
And when we feel lonely, as though we're cast aside, Deserted in the streets, left alone and without pride, These men invite us in, to sit before the fireplace.