Always fleeing and always
near me, the disdainful
look of your pale face
badly covered by a black cloak.
I don’t know where you go, nor where
your virginal beauty goes searching
for a wedding bed in the night. Nor do I know
what dreams close your eyelids,
nor who might have opened
your inhospitable bed.
.................................
Stop for a moment, elusive
beauty, stop.
  I would like to kiss the bitter,
bitter flower of your lips.