On the blue forehead of your childhood    
 through the dark passes of the night   
 an eye landed   
 small puddle of salt water   
 on your wavy lips   
 let the wind blow   
 frail caress   
 to comb your brown hair   
 at the base of the neck   
 and cross with a gesture   
 the bottom of the universe .

 O my wife with sunken loins
 feigned witch   
 round dance   
 at the coronation of autumn   
 I smell you   
 and lose myself in the maze of your arms and legs.   

   
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