You're jealous
of the joy you give me,
because I betray you
with it.
What you give me as a trickle
explodes in me
as a river.
It lifts me up
far beyond your reach,
to paradises
you will never know
and never understand.
We are foreigners, enemies,
singing our love songs
in different languages.
Your body's no more than an instrument
for giving joy
to my body,
which is much the more
chivalrous arrangement.
I won't be submerged in you.
I want you to be submerged
in me.
My laughing egoism
defends and adorns my nakedness,
it's a lifebelt.
The skin divides two beating hearts,
the love divides the lovers.
The beautiful song of the night
is a song of war.
Labels: Anna Swir