AN URGENT LETTER

You've gone. You've left me here with my desire:
My love of mixing you with all I see,
Of following your perfume along that stairway
That carries us up to a simple truth:
Nothing more sweet, more needed, nor more just,
Than to join both our wants in one colloquy.
And my pleasure seeks you out, whom I call
Tú, And I say je t'aime, te quiero, I love you.
In any tongue the verb of verbs will suit me
And even when I'm silent ti voglio bene.
Since you're not here, I take this page to say
That it is you who inspire me so, my love.
In this December solitude I'd like
To give your image all the value of
True company. In a light way I'm content.
We live in the risky confines of the moment.
I know no other way. And loneliness? You've left me here.
But neither you nor I Know anything of oblivion or eclipse.
And looking out the window of the train
Perhaps you do not see that landscape now,
So much your own. You lean, you rest your head,
Eyes closed, the better to dream. Ah—you close
Your eyes. . . . I know. It's not that an abyss
Would give you vertigo. Nothing exists At your side.
That is how you want to love. Do you see me? For love, it's me you miss.