Take my hand,
when the nocturnal waves surge up the land.
The night bares her sensual bosom to us,
The night, like the vestal virgin, floods
her beckoning look at us.
Let’s go to our destined rendezvous
and leave this messy lust-ridden room.
Just you and I
venture into the fatalistic high.
O the muttering streets do not know us
nor the solitude accompanying us
in this teeming multitude.
But the sound of the approaching tram,
the beeping red lights and stomping feet
all remind us that it’s time,
Yes it’s time to measure the desire
on the contour of every passing face.
and mine as well,
a hot summer night has opened my careless shirt.
But we must go now, when the clock strikes eight,
to the snow mounted Andes at the turn of the first street,
there, the face of a beggar , a shepherd too ,
Imagine his self-same song that comes with each sunset .
Then we embark on the tram down Peru,
where civilizations died and rose anew , warriors,
like the policemen in the booth , scarred in a holy rite.
And on the second avenue runs the wilderness of Siberia ,
come deep to the cypress old, come,
they are sentinels to a desolate dream.
How the world spreads out on these streets,
just for you and I, my dear , just for you and I !
At the end of the journey
I am taking you to my memories old,
to my unbound imagination and poetic repose,
to joy, to sadness, to light and darkness,
to my soaring ideals that no one can harness.
I have nothing, I gave you the world,
I have laid my heart open in words.
– written in Hongkong in 2016 , revised 2018.