Now that I have lost you like a precious stone I know that I have never had you neither thorn nor rose:
you weren’t at the bottom of the coffer that would have been enough lift clothes and blankets to see you back in place with pain and uncertain eyes in the mass of things.
I carried you with papers and pencils and coins and I knew I would lose you but not like a precious stone,
I thought that much water could quench my thirst.
Now, what do I want to do?, look where you weren’t there where you are not where you will not be with your black eyes.


(1953)

Read by Harry

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