I will let the desire to love your eyes that are sweet die inside me,
Because I can give you nothing but the sorrow of seeing me, eternally exhausted.
Yet your presence is something like light and life,
And I feel that in my gesture there is your gesture and in my voice, your voice.

I don't want to have you because in my being everything would be over.
I just want you to appear in me like faith in the desperate nights so that
I may take a drop of dew in this cursed land that stood upon my flesh like a stain from the past.
Likewise, I'm going to let you go... you will go and touch your face on another face.
Your fingers will entangle other fingers, and you will blossom into the early hours.

But you won't know that I was the one who took you,
Because I was the great intimate of the night,
Because I touched my face in the face of the night and heard your loving speech,
Because my fingers have encased the mist fingers suspended in space,
And I have brought to myself the mysterious essence of your disordered abandonment.

I'll just be like sailboats in the quiet spots.
But I will possess you like no one else because I can leave.
And all the lamentations of the sea, the wind, the sky, the birds, the stars...
It will be your present voice, your absent voice, your serrated voice.