from 2nd Elegy
Lovers, gratified in each other, I am asking you about us.
You hold each other. Where is your proof?
Look, sometimes I find that my hands have become aware of each other,
That gives me a slight sensation.
But who would dare to exist, just for that?
You, though, who in the other’s passion grow until, overwhelmed, he begs you:
“No more … “; you who beneath his hands swell with abundance,
I am asking you about us.
I know, you touch so blissfully because the caress preserves,
So you promise eternity, almost, from the embrace.
And yet, when you have survived the terror of the first glances,
When you lift yourselves up to each other’s mouth and your lips join,
