You have no parents, it's clear. . .I know
because of your indecisive look. I can tell
I won't tell you about truth,
because the word's going to die
will need it.
Father of yesterday who made hope
full of children and debts.
I conjure your hand which was never dry
I go crazy, my love, I go crazy
when I go in your mouth, delayed;
and almost without wanting, almost for nothing
I ask if I'm wise
when I awaken
the danger between his thighs,