I saw you naked of kernels, of the books which you wrote, of silences…but full of light.

I saw you so as you are: untranslatable.

For that nothing does not translate well until is not loved well.

Nothing translates until is not denudation.

Yes, I saw you sunday (you were beautiful), I saw you monday (you were beautiful), I saw you tuesday (you were beautiful)…and in every day even more beautiful, namely very beautiful.

You were naked of ugly.

You were naked of full.

On each day you were seen and unforgettable.

That, into a day, I forgot to see you somewhere…and I saw you everywhere.

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