I know
harm can destroy
what trust there was in love.
But no, not us,
walking in this bright
universe. What is in it?
No face, no love, no rage?
Among the transversal beams
of our giving up,
of all despair,
soothing at each end,
there is one thing left
in this raging dispassionate lust.
[Joseph Ceravolo {1934-1988}, 'A Last Song', from Collected Poems]
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