Against the damp walls of your courtyard my entire evening-afternoon stands frozen still, in the warm sweat of your moistened body all my peace and comfort long ago went into recess, caught in the flawless weave of your words, all the clever traffic of my phrases comes to a halt, crossing the audacious courtyard of your touch, all my joy---how it's woven with un-joy!
Do you see any of this, all these things of mine? What I owe to your unspoken priceless words? My throat-deep burial of sorrow hidden in the gaps of your measured speech?