"XVIII I don't want to know what there is/ Under the hair given to my kiss/ And if in your white breast, my girl,/ You hide a heart of saint or damned./ What does it matter to me if a lie/ Has escaped you between one promise and another?/ What does it matter to do the autopsy/ Of that hour of love that you gave me?/ I will not look if inside the wine drunk/ There was some foreign drug:/ Your wine was good and I liked it./ I don't want to know how chaste you are:/ We truly loved each other for a whole hour,/ We were happy almost a day and that's it."
Created by d'Araprì