Above my bed in time with the sway
of curtains caressed by night's breath...

She flicks a fanned image of Catalan art
under the parasol with a twitching...

You, coquette and lovely, once managed
to encompass the allure of your sex...

When I am little in mind
or little in forgiveness...

I wake up every morning to an alarming sound,
the sound of no sound...

Under an oak tree I sit
with you in summer...

Nightingales nuance
morning melodies for those...

If you were a planet, I bet
you would dance around the sun...

If you think I will wait for you here
beneath this rain-soaked parasol...

You think I dont know it, but amongst
Your greenhouse kisses you scent of something else...

Don't worry.
Don't let me make you forget...

The sweet stickiness of strawberry jam
was the air of the airport, and on...