You laugh and throw your head back
When brag and make up fibs
How fun is this companion
That February brings
Pockets tinkling with coins
Steam exhaled in the wind
We look like serious strangers
But lightly pass the streets
“Whose careful hands
have touched your lashes, beauty?
When, how, by whom, how much
your lips been kissed?”
I do not ask all that. The spirit
has overcome daydreams.
The holly ten-year-old boy
in you to me appeals
Let’s stop and watch the river
That rinses lanterns’ beads.
I'll walk you to a square
That used to see young kings
And you, whistle your boyish pain
And clutch your heart in fist.
My cold, my frantic, free one
Forgive me this