Invisible amor de lo incierto. El infinito sale el mundo, sale de la arcilla y las piedras,
cada medianoche, hacen sombra. Fue el amor la primera sombra del origen,
su desvanecido silencio; y a través de la belleza creó los elementos.
Crujió la piel de las manos y el placer responde. Y tú, bailarina de la sangre,
te hiciste música de mis ojos.
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