The fire for light, a rancorous moon for bread,
the jasmine smearing around its bruised secrets:
then from a terrifying love, soft white hands
poured peace into my eyes and sun into my senses.
O love, how quickly you built a sweet
firmness where the wounds had been!
You fought off the talons and claws, and now
we stand as a single life before the world.
That’s how it was, how it is, how it will be,
my wild sweet love, my dearest Matilde,
till time signals us with the day’s last flower:
then there will be no you, no me, no light,
and yet beyond the earth, beyond its shadowy dark,
the splendor of our love will be alive.