By Luis G. Dato
The day is sordid that before was bright,
The skies are empty, and the earth no less,
Alone, the fevers of our soul unite,
Deeply I breathe the perfume of your dress.
The city in confusion reels in haste,
The rosy heavens vanish with chaste wings,
Against the warm seduction of your waist,
I faint and find the origin of things.
Within the quiet communion of our thoughts,
Where words but wound heart-ecstasy within,
Our lips, our hands, our silences have brought
Our love before the odorous shrines of sin.
