When your hands go out, love, toward mine, what do they bring me flying ? Why did they stop at my mouth, suddenly, why do I recognize them as if then, before, I had touched them,, as if before they existed they had passed over...

Take bread away from me, 
if you wish,
take air away,
but do not take from me your
laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance-flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
burst forth in your joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come
back with eyes tired
at times from having seen the
 unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter opens,
and if suddenly you see my
blood staining the stones of
the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise its
foamy cascade,
and in the spring,
love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, 
at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you 
and all other peoples,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread,
air,
light,
spring,
but never your laughter
for than I would die...