Always for the first time
Hardly do I know you
by sight
You return at some hour of the night to a house
at an angle to my window
A wholly
imaginary house
It is there that from one second to the next
In the
inviolate darkness
I anticipate once more the fascinating
rift occuring
The
one and only rift
In the
facade and in my heart
The closer I come to you
In reality
The more
the key sings at the door of the unknown room
Where you appear alone before me
At first you
coalesce entierly with the brightness
The elusive angle of a curtain
It's a field of
jasmine I gazed upon at dawn on a road in the vicinity of
Grasse
With the diagonal
slant of its girls picking
Behind them the dark falling wing of the plants
stripped bare
Before them a T-square of dazzling light
The curtain invisibly raised
In a frenzy all the flowers
swarm back in
It is you at grips with
that too long hour never dim enough until sleep
You as though you could be
The same except that I shall perhaps never meet you
You pretend not to know I am
watching you
Marvelously I am no longer sure
you know
You idleness
brings tears to my eyes
A swarm of
interpretations surrounds each of your gestures
It's a honeydew hunt
There are rocking chairs on a deck there are branches that may well scratch you in the forest
There are in a shop window in the rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette
Two lovely crossed legs caught in
long stockings
Flaring out in the center of a great white clover
There is a
silken ladder rolled out over the ivy
There is
By my leaning over the
precipice
Of your presence and your
absense in
hopeless fusion
My finding the
secret
Of loving you
Always for the
first time
- André Breton