To Couto de Barros (1924)

From you, Rose, I do not like
To accept only this slow hug
That you this moist kiss
That you give me…
I do not for a single reason:
From everything you tell me
I see that in your breast
Sobs the well-made heart
of you.
And then I imagine
That together with the slender body
The dark little body
That you give me
Together with your loveliness
The maddening charm and laughter
That you give me
It would be something if I too owned
What hides behind your face, Rose:
The thought, the soul, the grief
of you.