There are in space millions of gentle stars,
To the reach of your sight... but thou conjecturest
The ones thou dost not see, igneous and obscure roses
Exuberating in the farthest height of heights.
There are on Earth millions of beautiful women,
To the reach of thy desire... but thou searchest for
The ones who don't live, dream and affection thou dost not enjoy
Neither wilt, past or future visions.
Thus, in an abstraction of numbers and images,
Thou livest. Thou lookest with boredom at the isolated and sad planet
And find the heavenly vault desert and dark.
And thou'lt die, alone, between two mirages:
The stars with no name-the light thou'st never seen,
And the women with no body-the love thou'st not had!