The winter that I dread
I do not fear this coming winter,
nor the gel that hardens the earth and freezes the water
while the cold creeps you in the bones;
nor the snow covering its mellow silence
the deserted countryside and the roofs of the hamlets.
The winter that I dread is that of absence,
this emptiness around me when you’re not there
when the wolves of desire scratch the mattress,
that I know you too cursing the distance
which keeps you too far from the circle of my arms.
I love you, love you, love you to always say it again,
you love me, love me, yes, never to doubt;
at least will we have known and will we have tasted
the fairy fruits that this double delirium
carried in our hearts at their maturity.
I would like to embrace you as does ivy,
cover with my kisses your tender body offered,
to enter your flesh like in the sea fjord,
hear your surf calling Pierre
and modulate after your name in the open sky …