Why do you have eyebags this evening?
Where you were, darling, in the small hours,
when I looked for your coward paleness
in the sunless snow of my pillow?
You have the lips line cold,
cold by some sin kiss;
kiss that I don't know who would give you,
but I'm sure they gave you.
What black velvet gets dark
the profile of your good wheat eyes?
What blue vein or map condemns you
to the honey whip of my punishment?
And why did you caused me this sorrow
if you know darling!, you well know, you're my friend?