This woman fits in my hands. She is fair and blond, and I would carry her in my hands like a basket of magnolias.
This woman fits in my eyes. My gaze enfolds her, my gaze that sees nothing as it enfolds her.
This woman fits in my desires. She is naked before the yearning flame of my life, and my desire burns her like a live coal.
But, distant woman, my hands, my eyes, and my desires save for you their caresses, because only you, distant woman, only you fit in my heart.