What was told to me in a whisper
I must now repeat
under my breath:
The true lover
lives only
to love the beloved.
What was said to me so softly
I had to lean my ear
closer to her mouth to hear,
I must now lean closer to say:
All bodies, great and small, turn,
changing. But death,
without a body, never turns.
Faithful, death
goes about its business
of subtraction,
and its more mysterious work
of totaling sums, without interruption.
What was given to me in secret,
you too must now keep secret:
True love looks out
through death’s unswerving gaze.
And the true lover lives
only to love the beloved.