The sun on the sand, o sleeping wrestler

Warms a languorous bath in the gold of your hair

And burning the incense on your enemy cheek

It blends an amorous drink with your tears

Of this white blaze, the immutable lull

Made you say, saddened, o my fearful kisses

“We shall never be a mummy, alone

Under the ancient desert and the fortunate palms”

But your hair is a tepid river

Where the soul that obsesses us drowns without a shiver

And to find that Void that you do not know

I will taste the mascara your eyelids wept

To see if it can give the heart you struck

The senselessness of the sky and of the stones

04/20/2008