Beside your body wholly surrendered to mine,
beside your smooth shoulders where the ways of your embrace are born,
where are born your voice and glance, remote and clear,
I suddenly sensed the infinite hollow of his absence.
All these years that I miss him so,
like a climbing vine that clings from the wind,
I've sensed that he comes and goes with each contact,
and everyday I eagerly tear a message that holds nothing but a date,
and his name grandly grows, every time vibrating more profoundly,
because his voice was only for my ears,
because my eyes went blind when his were gone,
and my soul is like a huge desolate temple.
But this body of yours is a foreign god,
forged out of memories, reflection of myself,
soft from my smoothness, glorious from my desires,
a masque
statue I've raised in his memory.