
You knew how to give yourself, my love. You gave
the whole of you, and you kept for yourself
the question of whether you had given yourself totally.
As you undressed, the leaves of a faraway forest rustled,
the sky suddenly cleared.
your underwear was laid on the chair
like an embrace of white flowers.
Then, nothing else was left but our love
nothing but you and I
nothing but us two
neither yesterday
nor tomorrow
nothing but only now
nothing but you and I
now, now
together
now together
always together
We two.
Then I covered you with the bed sheet.
I want our child to look like you, I said.
No, you said. I want our child to look like you.
Then they broke our door.
We had to separate, Maria,
to separate so that people would never separate again.
I touched your belly with my hand, and I said
Farewell to our child.
Farewell. Farewell.
Our child, Maria, will look like all
the people
who justify life.