So I can swim in the sands

To Aart Tanner

Before the daybreak,

embrace of memory, your pale skin
dancing with me in the darkness of a single room,

a distance misunderstood.
Absence, scorching moon.
The dryness on the lips much too soon,
much, much too soon.
Come, sacred spring of carefully synchronized masterpieces
of words, wet melodies,
of love
of mixed colors...

Careful lips, dainty, sweet and possessive
far away
as a dream is the next morning,
as the sun from the playful stars,
the ocean from the dry sands,
the color, the white canvas
your pale skin...

Oh, the Scorching moon.

With your lips
awake me from this dream
so I can swim in the sands.
Drench the canvas of my skin
with agitation.
Devoted lips, of mixed colors
of love,
of words, of wet melodies.
Come.