In you
Little
rose,
rose-let,
at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems,
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I'll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
but
suddenly
my feet touch your feet and my
mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle
the thin new-moon line of your waist:
in love you have loosened yourself like
seawater:
I can scarcely measure the sky's most
spacious eyes and I lean down to your
mouth to kiss the earth...
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