We fled those years
Down blustery nighttimes
Of hustling fogs
With the moon
A glimmering light.
You were the moon
On those boundless nighttimes
Exactly when women
In white dresses
Frequented me.
Those exhaust,
Additionally, day by day phantoms—
How they looked for after me.
It causes me torment
To contemplate
In case your soul
Still wanders in rest,
In any case, I go on—
Still divided,
On edge
Drained by everything
Wasting
Obscure nighttimes
In outdoors bistros
Where yard umbrellas
Stream deluge
Like dark out blue paint...
It forgets about me dark
Frequented to the last
By you
Likewise, diminish nebulous visions
Of sweethearts past.
