You rise sparkling from lips and dark-circled eyes!

Through your veins I rise, like an injured dog

seeking the refuge of soft pavements.

Love, in this world you are a sin!

My kiss is the sparking point of the devil’s

horn; my kiss that is a sacred creed!

Spirit is the horopter that passes

—pure in its blasphemy!

the heart that begets the brain!—

that passes toward yours, through my sad clay.

Platonic stamen

that dwells in the calyx where your soul dwells!

Some sinister silent penitent?

Do you by chance hear him? Innocent flower!

… And to know that where there is no Paternoster,

Love is a sinning Christ!