You said to me, one evening, words so beautiful
that doubtless the flowers that leaned towards us
suddenly loved us, and one among them, in order
to touch us both, fell upon our knees.
You spoke to me of a time nigh at hand when our
years like over-ripe fruit would be ready for the
gathering, how the knell of destiny would ring
out, and how we should love each other, feeling
ourselves growing old.
Your voice enfolded me like a dear embrace, and
your heart burned so quietly beautiful, that at
that moment I could have seen without fear the
beginning of the tortuous roads that lead to the
tomb.