‘You Are Dying Of Purity and Simplicity:’ (XI: From ‘El Rayo Que No Cesa’)
You are dying of purity and simplicity: I am guilty, love, I’m confessing that I, intrepid snatcher of kisses, I sipped at the flower of your cheek. I sipped at the flower of your cheek, and since that glory, that event, your cheek, so careful and serious, droops, despoiled and sallow.
The ghost of that delinquent kiss haunts your persecuted cheekbone, always more obvious, dark and immense. And you are sleepless, zealously watching my mouth, with such care, so nothing corrupts or outrages!