You offered me fleetingly
your friendship
your inexhaustible eyes
your sweet smile
which tasted like honey on my lips
And leaving
I turn to see
the cold stones of heaven
a mirror full of the glass wings of light
and your fires sinking in the sea
like a wound I have bathed
I am grateful, at least, for having bled like this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem