"Oblivion" by Idea Vilariño 

When a soft mouth sleeping mouth kisses
as dying then,
sometimes when it reaches beyond the lips
and the eyelids fall full of desire
quietly consenting like the air,
the skin with its silky warmth asks for nights
and the kissed mouth
in its ineffable pleasure asks for nights, too.

Ah, silent nights, of soft dark moons,
long nights, sumptuous, crossed by pigeons
in an air made out of hands, love, given tenderness,
nights like ships...

It is then, in high passion, when the one who kisses
knows ah, too much, without respite, and sees that now
the world becomes a distant miracle
opening deep summers on lips,
abdicated by his conscience,
that he is finally forgotten in a kiss
and a passionate wind undresses his temples,
it is then, kissing, that eyelids descend,
and the air shudders with a hint of life,
and what is not air
also quivers, the ardent beam of the hair,
the velvet of the voice now, and, sometimes,
the illusion populated by suspended deaths.