Only when it’s gone is Love strong!
And the grave will be a great pupil,
in whose depths the anguish of love
survives and cries, as in a
chalice of sweet eternity and black dawn.
And the lips part for the kiss,
like something full that overflows and dies,
and, in an infuriating conjunction,
every mouth renounces for the other
a life of agonizing life.
And when I think like this, sweet is the grave
where everyone will mix together
in the same clamor;
sweet is the shade, where all unite
in a universal rendezvous of love.
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