Saturday
/ borges
Outside is the setting sun, in time
Gemstones,
Deep blind city
No one sees you.
The evening is silent or sings,
There are voices of longing
Nailed to the piano,
Always, for your infinite beauty.
Love it or not
The beauty of you
It is always the miracle of time.
Happiness in you
Like spring on a new leaf.
Am I nothing
Just the desire
In the evening.
The beauty in you
Like the cold light on the blade.
Night makes the bars heavier.
In a cold room
We grope our two solitude like blind men.
The whiteness and radiance of your body
Better than dusk.
There is pain in our love
As if to the soul.
You,
Yesterday was nothing but perfect beauty
And now, too, there is complete love.
