« I go, surfing my only wave,
lunar, solar, fiery and cold, sudden,
asleep in the throats of the fortunate islands white and soft like fresh hips.
My habit of kisses trembles in the humid night madly agitated with electric discharges, the intoxication of the rose in me unfolded.
Rising up the waters, in the outer waves, your twin body which submits in my arms like an endless fish stuck to my soul. « (Pablo Neruda)