The house would be full of roses and wasps.
In the afternoon, we would hear the bell ringing for vespers;
and grapes the color of translucent stones would appear
to be sleeping in the sun, below the crawling shade.
How I would love you there! I offer you all my heart
that is twenty-four years old, my mocking spirit,
my pride and my poetry of white roses;
and yet I do not know you?you do not exist.
I only know that if you were alive
and with me at the bottom of the meadow,
we would be kissing and laughing under the yellow bees,
by the cool stream, under the thick leaves.
We would hear nothing but the heat of the sun.
The hazel trees would shade your ear,
and then we would mingle our mouths, no longer laughing,
to tell of our love what can never be told;
and I would find, on the red of your lips,
the taste of the white grapes, the red roses and the wasps.