Source
I saw my inert dream come to fiery life
on your delicate hands, at last.
When your moist lips drank from me,
an angel seemed to touch me reverently.
Shedding its warm carmine-coloured caress,
you are the breeze that my agony breathes.
The word that my impure desires devour without lie,
all the meaning of my sombre caress.
Beloved muse, do not abandon my poetry,
you are my inspiration, my purest breath.