We

Taking form and taking no wound, a name and the wave of an echo in the depths of the mind: a room, dusted, a carpet with a border of half-open buds, the scent of crushed mint, the thread of the curtain twirling on the breast of the lace curtain... A world in the embrace of the wave, faces without bruises and open to kisses. A name and the wave of an echo in the depths of the mind: the pure embrace of being with being. The collapse of the prison of armor, naked bodies reaching each other... A volcano of imprisoned caresses, falling to the knees in the boiling lava of tenderness. — The revolt of love against the decrees, the revolt of love against the gallows — A name and the wave of an echo in the depths of the mind: head sunk into its own being, the wave returns to the depths and to the hidden abyss of time. An echo in the depths of the mind: together we boil over, an eruption from the heart of the brain embraces the sky, and pours down a flood of tenderness upon the earth. Upon the earth, shirts rot, fibers, synthetic fibers rot, titles and chains rot; and we, naked bodies, find each other again. Is it death or birth? Pure, clear, like the snowy view of the mountains after snowfall; pure, clear, and astonished by a transformed sense: unwounded and alive, finding each other: purer than the clear tears that we shed down each other’s cheeks, after death on the beloved earth...