LOVE - NUMBER EIGHT
Breathe in the oxygen – of my love
I breathe out your carbon dioxide – of your pain.
My love, fertilus at day, phosphorus at night.
You, amalgam statue and speechless shout.
The "White Storm" breaks you, my warmth erects you.
Eclipse? Is the moon hiding the sun? They cheat on us,
turn their backs and kiss each other secretly-invisibly.
Love has the tools, not to perish our souls but to polish.
Look, your beauty before the mirror: It’s a pleasure
But the virtue behind the mirror (look); It’s a treasure!
Octave leans on the fivefold stave, they create music.
My body, still Eight, when bending horizontal on you
We become infinite, flying with wings granted by Cupid.