When the gods will have decided
to take what's left of my senses,
I will beg them to leave me just
with the memory of the scent of your lips.
I shall rebuild them all from that,
like an experienced historian.
Like when I shattered your discourse
your mouth was so soft that not
even the greatest botanist could have
told the difference between it and a
flower's corolla.
How you looked like a marble water lily,
naked, and you kept on forgetting
all the characteristics of humanness
but sighing.
How your hair looked like dust
particles looked at through a ray,
as if you had been blasted by the radiance
of your own smile.
Morph your mouth into a sledgehammer
and kiss my forehead one more, final time.
Flammas eius lúcifer matutínus invéniat,
I shall always be with you - you won't
ever take me out of you and I will
kiss you one last time eternally.
Take care of your smile,
sapphire,
Exspiravit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem