If I were ten years younger,
how happy and how fearless the tone we used:
every word unleashing a storm
and maddening the occasional etiquette.
The years are, then, mi gag, oh woman;
I know too much, I become my knowledge.
I would have loved meeting you years ago,
to draw firesparks from the water you give me,
to wield the perfidy and the innocence
and to know how to forget.
This woman proposes I jump and crash
against a wall of rocks she builds in the sky,
she fuels me with longings
with futureless kisses and lawless sentences.
This woman proposes a pact that seals
earth and wind, light and shadow;
she invokes the mystery of time and she calls me.
This woman proposes I jump and crash
just to see her,
just to love her,
just to be there,
just to not forget her.
If I were ten years younger, I wouldn't have waited for her propositions
and I would have run like a wild beast
to the bed where we met,
shameless and bloody, heavenly and elated.
If I were ten years younger, I would have commited blasphemy;
with sap from her body I would have burned every temple,
to set example for those who fear.
If I were ten years younger, I would have killed
just to see her,
just to love her,
just to be there,
just to not forget her.