Without a Doubt

We come back close to each other and read one another again with other letters with another voice with another tongue and mouth. Like sea swallows on the crest of the brimming wave the most brimming of waves running swift in motion with crowds of white shells in the fold of the wave's pleated hem. We come back close to each other broken out of the moulds broken out of the prison of ice broken out of every bond — bond upon bond upon bond bound layer by layer upon our bodies in the cold season — layer by layer of frost upon the body of our dream in the depths. We come back close to each other with other bodies uncovered naked, naked in the fresh air in fresh life we read one another like the drawing of an instrument's naked string beneath the virgin nakedness of the player's fingertips. We come back close to each other like a candle held in the hand but unlit that turns toward the flame mingles with the flame with the hottest longing of the lip burns, mingles, burns away the cold distances — the separations. We come back close to each other and the cold silence of frames and carpets and bed we fill to the brim with the enchanting songs of our union with the hot music of our embrace; then from every opening there well up clear and tender melodies, as if the scent of clean white jasmine — all around the whole house — after all the seasons of frost — seasons that time will forget — We come back close to each other in a train that has been moving forward on the line of time. And we were nowhere and are nowhere but in this train...