Don’t listen to the blackwash, from slanders keep away,
Yesterday’s friends hung them together to spatter us today;
Our love’s been sanctified with its great height,
It uplifts us unto eternal sorrows’ light.
Not even in thought, sins ever raise unto the sky,
The vice climbs neither unto, nor in imagination;
It’s like a hell inside the heaven, where return and cry
Insane desires, that didn’t find on earth completion;
Giant despairs, embraced, freeze in the air,
Devotions downfallen by tragic haughtiness,
Unfinished burnings, strains unto nowhere,
Obstinately tempted the nothingness.

My love is divine, that’s why, my lovely,
Is without limits and always hungry.

At night, Friday unto Saturday, February 5, 1955