But why do I strip that girl with my eyesdressed in pavements and beautyas winter strips with its hands a peach tree in its heated garden!Ah, this little cough sprouted like a sapling on her lips!Look, the fishermen have arrivedbut they forgot the tired sea on the grown shore.Their boots remind me of the candleholderslitwhich the naked girl blew out on the first anniversary of the firethat fell on her lipsand burned the sapling that was not of the cough but of virginity…