It's not just love, what I feel for you
is an animal malady.
Neither the stubbornness of a wild boar,
nor the jackal's fury.
It's my soul, jealous,
with criminal instinct.
It's to love until it hurts
like the cut of a dagger.
Oh, love, oh, sorrow.
I love you with malice aforethought.
I need to mistake your skin
for the coldness of iron,
or perhaps for the cruel spark
of broken glass.
I want your feelings
to be like minerals.
Comet's dust in the wind,
from outer space.
I don't envy your
most letal lover's voracity.
He's waiting for your fatality,
I aim to what's inmortal.
The spirit that lives inside
your most carnal beauty.
That light that brings back to life
original sin...