”I will learn to live, we will live together”,
we kept repeating inside each for himself.
We knew that was the case although we did not look at each other.
Then, as if upon an order, we entered the sea
up to our shoulders and began kissing it
all around ourselves, around the world.
I journeyed slowly towards you
watching you as a beautiful timid village woman
in a dress made by Lyon tailors, like the queen of India,
as I listened to cruel Jeanne d’Arc and the cool Sai Baba
speaking out of you.
You approached me slowly, eying me
as a quiet filigree maker of planets and suns,
surrounded with maps, rectangles and distance,
accepting me as someone who might have been
Galileo Galilei or Hieronymus Bosch.
I will learn to die, we will die together.
As if upon an order we shall enter the sea.
Inside we shall reel and drown and pray
and dream under the water, listening to each other,
keeping silent for each other, hating each other
because of that depth that will disfigure us.