Sweet seeds, flower of the five wounds

Swallowing down passionfruit in the eve

The wine of the bassarids, a few midnight poems to the orphic 

A garnet ring we made and inscribed ourselves

wild lovers it says, il testo per sempre

we are more than love and more than lovers

you who ask spirit to spirit for union

neither body, mind or dowry matter so

a treaty without words, darksome and secretive.