Losses

In your stretched out soul it is preached
There is no poem larger than your body.
Dancing with the light on my senses,
Your body, icon of the reunion, allows us to see
The radiance of the secret truth.

Quite, without exception he had first been
Conceived in the thought:
Every movement, every growth,
Every embrace and the flight of the breathed word,
Poetics of the senses...

Suddenly, the entry to the indomitable thing:
Lubricity, voluptuousness, satisfaction sublingual,
Genital immersed images in horizon,
They reproduce your deep hard skin,
And these populated hands of not that...

We are prisms absorbing a thousand colors,
Turning eternal transparent beams;
My body, allusion to all the bodies,
Immense game of labyrinth abysses
So regal that the happiness grieves me....


ROSAMARIA JOOS
Translation by Mark L. Melcher