When your hands were the moon
they took from the garden of the sky
your eyes, two divine violets.
What nostalgia, when your eyes
at night remember their bud
in the dead lights of your hands!
All my soul, with its world,
I place in my earthly eyes,
so I may admire you, wondrous woman!
Will your two violets not find
the resting place created for you
gathering in my soul the non-being?
