Sweet derision

Sweet derision of the reader:
Because it is for you
My ever fancied beloved
That I write badly and painfully
 Under this slight light of the white candle
 And for you it is also
 The death of the pencil in my hand
 And the white of my mind
 When I think about your body
 And in your soft woman's bosom

But it will not leak
 In the silence of the night
 A tear of poetry
 On my lips in panic?


 I will shout your name
 In the ardent dawn
 And nothing in the whiteness
 Of the herb will say
 That it was me!

Oh, it's the night! It's
The night already!
And in the white skins
Already everything has been written once.