amid the noise and haste

The spying days cross in secret
but they fall within your voice of light.
Oh mistress of love, in your rest
I established my dream, my silent attitude.

With your body of timid number, suddenly extended
to the quantities that define the earth,
behind the struggle of the days white with space
and cold with slow deaths and withered stimuli,
I feel your lap burn and your kisses travel
shaping fresh swallows in my sleep.

At times the destiny of your tears ascends
like age to my forehead, there
the waves are crashing, smashing themselves to death:
their movements moist, drifting, ultimate.