what I am thinking these days

Love that is doomed posseses me for some reason, I think of you and me as the doomed lovers we never were. We walk in some autumn's continual rain in my dream, and grasp at one another, as though each moment was the moment of parting, drinking in every feature, every change of expression. Each thing then becomes the last, and we wander down deserted streets, without touching, and are aliens wherever we go. Life is a perpetual defeat for us. We found each other reluctantly, allowed ourselves passion at the expense of sadness, opened to each other only out of irony. We said goodbye when we met the first secret time. We have no eagerness, no ecstasy, only the likeness of this sense of defeat. We come together rarely and then like two infected lovers in contagious ruin, we lie down together only so that we might die warm. Each stolen moment is like a withering rose caught at the superb beauty of its decline, death already dreadfully kissing it. This is what I am thinking these days: of doomed lovers (you so rare and dark beside me), living a trapped life in a city set for destruction. How many beds will we get into tonight, apart; how many silences endure and how much longing will remain sweet and prisoned in our limbs without escape! Doomed lovers in buildings that will be ruins! Just part of my dream of you these days...