WITH YOUR PORTRAIT

I don't know if my eyes or my hands
Sparked life in your portrait;
Human clouds, superhuman rays,
All your I of innate emperor

Rises to my eyes, in my hands.
For that, all in flames, I unbind
Hair and soul for your portrait,
And I open in bloom!... Then, sovereign,

Of shadow and light, your grave eyes
Say great things that I know and you know…
And I let you die… In my hands remains

A great stain, livid and somber…
And in my melancholy you are born again
Formed by cold and remote stars!