How will
it be,
the day
death comes?
Perhaps
like
the gift
at the
beginning
of the
night

The
first
kiss on
the lips
given
unasked.
The kiss
that
opens
the way
to
brilliant
worlds

While,
in the
distance,
an April
of
nameless
flowers,
Agitates
the
moon’s
heart

Perhaps
in this
way:
when
the
morning,
Green
with
unopened
buds,
begins to
shimmer

In the
bedroom
of the
beloved,
And the
tinkle of
stars
as they
rush to
depart,
Can be
heard on
the
silent
windows