O rose beyond the reach of time and of the senses
O kiss enveloped in the scarves of all the winds
surprise me with one dream
that my madness will recoil from you.
Recoiling from you
In order to approach you
I discovered time.
Approaching you
in order to recoil from you
I discovered my senses.
Between approach and recoil
there is a stone the size of a dream
It does not approach
It does not recoil.
You are my country
A stone is not what I am
therefore I do not like to face the sky
nor do I die level with the ground
but I am a stranger,
always a stranger.
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