My love is awake alike a vigil of weapons
As a long eve of fight, heroically tensed, it happens;
Nothing languishes inside me, like doesn’t sleep,
The aims for the vibrating bow, though fixed.
I wait for kind of magic, than a win more mil back-sight
Not for the brute crowning of the burning blood;
Beyond the pleasure, I spy other intention
The invincible, exalted one, geniuses’ junction...
I crave for the incorporeal dream of perfection;
For your excellence to not be a hallucination,
-That just came in a moment and next means its departure-
I will break up the belay, earthen decree of nature:

For lasts your splendor fertile, everlasting
I graft from myself, its thinking power lusty.


Friday, 3 December 1954