When I wear my cap. Return my feet to my shoes.
When I come close to the city and that night plague.
When the conceits of your mouth fade from my lips
and the earth returns to spin on its axis.
And I am no longer able to turn my face away
and we no longer can identify each other—always
lingering like a lilac branch
that sudden scent of your body
(The Hill of Three Crosses and the Adi Villa),
because you and I will always be bursting
into bloom worlds from here and until
the very end of springtime.