An obstacle was there that transformed
the deeds and the manner of my life.
An obstacle was there that stopped me
many times when I was about to speak.
Only from my most imperceptible deeds
and my most covert writings–
from these alone will they understand me.
But perhaps it isn’t worth exerting
such care and such effort for them to know me.
Later, in the more perfect society,
surely some other person created like me
will appear and act freely.
and sat down here. I’ve been sitting without reading,without speaking. Completely alone in the house,who could I talk to?Since nine o’clock when I lit the lampthe shade of my young bodyhas been haunting me, reminding meof shut scented rooms,of past passion – what daring passion.And it’s also brought back to mestreets now unrecognizable,bustling night clubs…
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And yet I came so close so many times.And yet how paralyzed I was, how cowardly;why did I keep my lips sealedwhile my empty life wept inside me,my desires wore robes of mourning?To have been so close so many timesto those sensual eyes, those lips,to that body I dreamed of, loved-so close so many times.
How unhappy the poor things areand how bored by the pathetic life they live.How they tremble for fear of losing that life, and how muchthey love it, those befuddled and contradictory souls,sitting -half comic and half tragic-inside their old, threadbare skins.
