A poem for Alejandra

You haven´t met her, I know. How could you? You're a no one.

As a proof of her fame and the honor that knowing her means to me, I will translate a little poem that one of her inloved but unlucky followers has written.

One could, I´m afraid, make a book gathering what her lovers have wrote in her name: she is a muse, yes, a real and joyful one.

Such book would be irredeemably bad and pinky, but some of its poems could be considered good (by a very kind reader).

So, before you take a look on this, be sure to be forgiving.