They’re liars, those who say I lost the moon,
who foretold a future like a public desert for me,
who gossiped so much with their cold tongues:
they tried to ban the flower of the universe.
“The quick spontaneous mermaids’ amber
is finished. Now he has only the people.”
And they gnawed on their incessant papers,
they plotted an oblivion for my guitar.
But I tossed-ha! into their eyes!–the dazzling lances
of our love, piercing your heart and mine.
I gathered the jasmine your footsteps left behind.
I got lost in the night, without the light
of your eyelids, and when the night surrounded me
I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness.