You have me in your hands
and you read me like an open book.
You know things that I don’t know
and you tell me things I don’t tell myself.
I learn more from you than from me,
you are like an all-hours miracle,
a dolour with no source.
If you were a man you would be my friend.
At times I want to tell you about the women
I pursue under your nose.
You are like forgiveness
and I am almost your son.
Ah, the beauty of your eyes when you are with me!
How distant and how absent you seem
when I sacrifice you to the solitude! 
Sweet as your name, as a fig, you await
me in the depths of your love till I return.
You are the same as my house,
you are like my death, my love.