Some night in Paris – noisy, wet and hot:
The light-green light in dark-green leaves and branches,
The crazy mix of music, rum and crunches –
Without problems like "Two beers or not?"
YOU is the only answer – I forgot
The very question, missed in holes and catches
Of yellow smooth leathern air, that matches
With brown steam of a new-filled teapot.
But I don't match: I miss your every feature,
And, listening to the Word of the great preacher,
I feel your curves and call them one by one
According to the dark sense of an empty
And bitter space between "almost" and "plenty",
That drinks me drop by drop till work is done.
