In this trigonometric love equation,
You’re my arcsine having a special
Angle of view, secretly placed in that
Unit circle of feelings. You may arrange
My vision’s arcs and dream’s diameters
Inside of it perfectly triangular, love will
Always have the same ratio pi. This pure
Equation of love is seemingly incompatible,
Because it keeps hopes in philosophical
Numbers becoming common geometrically
Shapes of love in self like hidden new
Little hoops in those triangles searching
For divine. Our parallel life lines are two
Tangents to this circle of love sending
Their tangential vibration going on forever,
But not crossing at any point of this imperfect
Not crossing at any point of this imperfect
Round world of two, where you hang your dream.
It’s a secret place. I keep your dream safe in
This beautiful madness of love. Your dream
Becomes a mystery, you become a mystery
Lover like an unknown belonging to any
Equation. This way, you become my C.
You’re mister C
From concupiscible,
From caleptikide,
From cataguerrillaism,
And never from culpability,
Never from culpability,
Never from concubinage,
And never from Charley.
Our love is getting old in concentric circles,
Those circles of time. We extrapolate it to
Infinity. You are my semi-infinity, in which I
Lose myself to be your unique star as that
Already existent in a Romanian novel,
Entitled ”Lorelei”.
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