after Kotaro Takamura
How more beautiful you are, with every veil,
Every adornment, shed.
Your body, by the wash of years refined;
Boundless, like a meteor.
Your soul, insubstantial to vanity or scandal,
Moving swiftly, as desire.
How long, centuries? Before this consummation
There, wrapped in your silence, it is as if you were
Creation’s first triumph.
Ah, sometimes my heart leaps in me amazed:
How more beautiful you are.