• Your lips, delicate as poetry,
    turn the most voluptuous kiss
    into such a coyness
    that the cave animal uses it
    to become human.
    And your cheeks, with two oblique lines,
    that lead your pride
    and my destiny
    I who have endured the night
    without being armed
    in anticipation of the dawn
    and have brought back
    a proud virginity,


    from the brothels of barter.
    (Never did a man so ruinously rise

    to kill himself

    as I settled the task of living)
    And your eyes are the secret of fire
    and your love
    is the victory of man
    when he rushes to battle against his fate.
    And your bosom
    a tiny place to live
    a tiny place to die
    and an escape
    from the city
    that accuses the purity of the sky
    shamelessly with a thousand fingers.
    A mountain begins with its first rocks
    and man with the first pain
    in me, there was a cruel prisoner
    not used to the clanking of his chains
    I began with your first glance.
    Tempests play magnificently
    a tiny flute
    in your grand dance.
    And the singing of your veins
    makes the sun of the always rise.
    (Let me rise from sleep so
    that all the lanes of the city
    perceive my presence.)
    Your hands are reconciliation
    and friends helping that hostilities
    may be forgotten.
    Your forehead is a tall mirror
    luminous and high
    in which the Seven Sisters stare
    to realize their beauty.
    Two restless birds sing on your chest
    from which direction will the summer arrive
    so thirst will make
    all the waters
    even wholesomer?
    That you may appear in the mirror
    a life-long I kept
    staring at it
    all the lakes and the seas
    I wept.
    O Fairy in human form
    whose body would not burn
    except in the fire of illusion
    your presence is a paradise
    justifying escape from hell
    it is an ocean overwhelming me
    to wash me clean
    of every lie
    and of every sin.
    And the dawn awakens by your hands.