You had put on your see-through dress.
I, the ladder against a cherry tree.
You wanted to climb up first.
And after . . .
There are so many fashions, manners
Of saying things without speaking.
And since you knew so well how to do it,
You did it.
A smile, an outstretched hand.
And by a trick of transparency,
Those fruit, scarcely concealed by those folds of cloth,
Swaying back and forth . . .
It wasn't about climbing all that high,
But with my feet on the lowest rungs,
I felt, slipping away from me, the cloak
Of childhood.
We didn't carve anything in stone,
But I admit to thinking about it often,
Each time I hear that a tree
Has fallen.
A tree is quickly chopped down.
The wood, somebody must have sold it.
If only he knew the trouble I had
Climbing back down.
Besides, have I gotten over
All those tricks of transparency,
Those fruit, scarcely concealed by those folds of cloth,
Swaying back and forth?
I have found other things to do
And other smiles to get to know.
But so lovely a light,
Never.
At the speed that time goes by,
The miracle is that nothing erases the basic feelings.
Everything dissolves into gentle shadow,
Everything except that taste of fever and honey.
Everything has flown into space,
The smile, the dress, the tree, and the ladder,
At the speed of time going by,
Nothing, nothing erases the basic feelings
I have found other things to do
And other smiles to get to know.
But so lovely a light,
Never.
And see how, from the ground where we are,
We spend our lives as mortals,
Looking for those doors that open
Onto the sky.