Love of my body, living death,
look in vain for your written words
and I think, with the flower withers
that if I live without me want to lose
The wind is immortal. The inert stone
knows no shadow nor life.
inner heart does not need
honey ice cream that light versa.
But I endured. I cut my veins,
tiger and dove on my sewing
in a duel of bites and lilies.
Quiet, therefore, with words, my madness
or let me live in my serene
dark night of the soul for ever
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