And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy. It climbs the same way on damp walls. You are to blame for this cruel sport. They are fleeing from my dark lair. You fill everything, you fill everything. Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy, and they are more used to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you to make you hear as I want you to hear me.

Hands make the world each day.

so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.

We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.

With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?

Whom can I ask what I came to make happen in this world?

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.