I asked the god of love: what is the highest bliss?
and the god said, “to be completely famous,”
and I had other questions—but this?
Fame is the highest bliss?
Fame? Why would the love-god say this?
I prefer: is food or drink closer to an actual kiss?
When you leave off sighing,
must love descend to lying?
Is love dangerous?
I had a feeling Love would promote the kiss.
Wouldn’t Love rather be saying this?
“The shy-at-first, intimate kiss
is love—and life’s—most extraordinary bliss.”
But Love explained: “Fame must be complete,
so everything the lovers do is sweet.
There are mysteries which pertain
even to those well-known.
Love with these is always over-blown.
Love, even the highest love, must fall
if there are any secrets at all.
Love is a wild proclaiming: I love you!
I love you! and the words
must run to the nests of all the birds.
To kiss and talk with a beautiful face
is love. It leaves you no other place
for accomplishments, for other kinds of fame.”
I listened to love carefully. Food,
in some quarters, is it. Or being in the mood.
I finally met Rosalinda. She was tame.
I stood by a blowing sea. I couldn’t move.
After that, I didn’t know if I could ever love.