Each in the most hidden sack keptthe lost jewels of memory,intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses,the fragment of public or private happiness.A few, the wolves, collected thighs,other men loved the dawn scratchingmountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers.For me happiness was to share singing,praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes.I ask forgiveness for my bad ways:my life had no use on earth.

With kisses your mouth taught memy lips came to know fire.

Love, my territory of kisses and volcanoes.

Only with kisses and red poppies can I love you,with rain-soaked wreaths,contemplating ashen horses and yellow dogs.Only with waves at my back can I love you,between dull explosions of brimstone and reflective waters,swimming against cemeteries that circulate in certain rivers,drowned pasture flooding the sad, chalky tombstones,swimming across submerged heartsand faded lists of unburied children.