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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, 
floating humors 
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!

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