Perhaps not to be is to be without your being,without your going, that cuts noon lightlike a blue flower, without your passinglater through fog and stones,without the torch you lift in your handthat others may not see as golden,that perhaps no one believed blossomedthe glowing origin of the rose,without, in the end, your being, your comingsuddenly, inspiringly, to know my life,blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze:and it follows that I am, because you are:it follows from ‘you are’, that I am, and we:and, because of love, you will,
I will,
We will, come to be.
IX From: ‘Cien sonetos de amor’
