This isn’t probability or pessisism but fact.
What we want are the countless words, embraces and gestures,
the warm breath of a lover’s mouth
but we will never find a lover, that voice above all voices,
for it would be too much like an angel’s
and burn the heart right out of us.
Maria Cuervo,1993
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem