I can only imagine how a poem for you
would look. I still haven’t managed to
give meaning to its form; to its content – even less.
Once in a while I came upon the words of your poem
in other people’s verses, but never in the arrangement desired.
Not in a single story could I find convincing images
about your being; not in a single sentence – the complete reflection of your body.
(And I know that, more or less, all of it has already been expressed.)
Besides, it’s not so simple to place you into the inventory of language.
It would only be another dream, then, whose complete events
I wouldn’t be able to remember the moment I wake up. Hence, I am only able
to play with another invention, the reason why I accept
already published words. I tell you, I can only
imagine how a poem for you would look like.