Storm
Happily,
I gave to you my she,
whom my life lights,
the touch of a white rose
in the shape of a pure kiss
to the treasure of your lips
in the early mornings' ecstasy
and in the twilight of our nights.
And as you did divine
my love I gave to you a kiss,
to assure you that yes
you are my want and mine.
Such passed the days
and all those years
and all those years
until God caused my life to mist,
and called my soul to its final rest,
in the redolent mystic remedies
of a storm of white petals.
Aah, then my
love of loves,
I learned that day,
in that fall of those flowered drops,
as I was covered by the innumerable kisses
of the odorous rain, that they are us.
For in the grace of the petals
I felt your mouth in the infinity of flowers,
and found on the fragrant lips
of the stormy drops,
the white roses
the white roses
of our happiness.
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