Aphrodite's son

Aphrodite's son, he thick hair,
the night was the creator of the black color.
It's in his eyes
jet black angry eyes only.

It's shoulders as branches of the oak,
and hands strong veins,
to rotate the wheel and crank,
the women of the world upset.

Cupid's arrows, he gets to shoot,
his voice is like a slap in the flash,
it is still the ways of.

It does not hurt, says his sleeve,
when the man was captured
the photo but.
I look longingly image,
I still remember very well yesterday,
it is a cry of pain of the mirror,
large genuine longing.

The pain of the echo to return again,
Act boomerang wander
place of origin again.