"Then we met more often
I stood at one side of the hour,
you at the other,
like to handless of an amphora.
Only the words flew between us,
back and forth.
You could almost see their whirl-wind,
i would lower a knee,
and touch my elbow tothe ground
to look at the grass, bent
by the falling of some word,
as though by the paw of a lion in flight.
The words rotate between us,
back and forth,
and the more i loved you, the more
they continued, this whirl almost seen,
the structure of matter, the beginnings of things."