I love you at ten in the morning, at eleven, and at twelve noon. I love you with all my soul and with all my body, sometimes, on rainy afternoons. But at two in the afternoon, or at three, when I begin to think of the two of us, and you think of dinner or the daily chores, or the amusements you don’t have, I begin to hate you silently, with the half of hate that I keep for myself.
Later I return to love you, when we lie down together and I feel that you are made for me, that in some way your knee and your belly are telling me that, that my hands convince me of it, and that there is nowhere I can come to or go to more easily than your body. You come whole to meet me ,and for a moment we both disappear, we plunge into the mouth of God, until I tell you of my hunger or my dream.
Every day I love you and hate you hopelessly. And there are days, there are hours, in which I don't know you, in which you are as strange to me as somebody else’s wife. Men worry me, I worry about myself, my griefs distract me. Probably there is a long time when I don’t think about you at all.So you see....Who could love you less or more than I do, my love.?
Later I return to love you, when we lie down together and I feel that you are made for me, that in some way your knee and your belly are telling me that, that my hands convince me of it, and that there is nowhere I can come to or go to more easily than your body. You come whole to meet me ,and for a moment we both disappear, we plunge into the mouth of God, until I tell you of my hunger or my dream.
Every day I love you and hate you hopelessly. And there are days, there are hours, in which I don't know you, in which you are as strange to me as somebody else’s wife. Men worry me, I worry about myself, my griefs distract me. Probably there is a long time when I don’t think about you at all.So you see....Who could love you less or more than I do, my love.?