© Todos los derechos reservados - All rights reserved
My soul is a collection of murmurs of an imaginary life - Mi alma es una colección de murmullos de una vida imaginaria
Our sweat composes a sweet melody of droplets in my memory - Nuestro sudor compone una dulce melodía de gotas en mi memoria
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:
And as the last slow sudden drops are shed
From sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,
So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
Their bosoms sundered, with the opening start
Of married flowers to either side outspread
From the knit stem; yet still their mouths, burnt red,
Fawned on each other where they lay apart.
Sleep sank them lower than the tide of dreams,
And their dreams watched them sink, and slid away.
Slowly their souls swam up again, through gleams
Of watered light and dull drowned waifs of day;
Till from some wonder of new woods and streams
He woke, and wondered more: for there she lay.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)