They didn't admit it
but I know what they saw.
I know about every horror,
I know about doubts and fears
and also about their pleasures,
their orgasms and their ecstasies
that led them to the gates of infernal madness.
An antithesis, I'd say, cruel agony full of candor.
I know what they felt
their essences, their insides
I know them to the core.
I know about their hands shaking
and about the cold sensation in their stomachs.
They are silent
but I know what they talked about;
flowers, seas, perfumes,
balsams and table delicacies,
smiles, strong colors,
beating hearts and joy.
About the newly born and about the "here lies,"
about huge storms
and endless doldrums.
All the heaven's angels and all their holy peace!
I know more!
I know about the loss of sleep,
the hopes of autumn swept away.
Blushing faces and sweaty hands
messy beds, flaming bodies
and abstractions described
by their vain philosophy.
I know about foggy eyes
about panting breath,
about laughing for no reason,
changing the meaning
of what made sense
and of what had never made sense before.
Blood running hot in the veins
beautiful women looking ugly,
ugly women looking beautiful,
certainties and "who would say,"
the strong light of hanging oil lamps
the weak light of their days,
time eating candles,
spiders weaving cobwebs
and they falling into them.
They never confessed
but I know why they never disclosed
the cruel candor of this intense agony,
the eternal fire that cools every soul,
what cannot be understood or explained,
what provokes no fever but has no cure
and what guides and what drives them all
to that harsh and infernal door.
An antithesis, I'd say,
the peace of love and the hell of insanity!