You've asked me, Lesbia, how many more
of our fond kisses might be just enough
to satisfy me. Asking is a bluff
but I'll give you my answer. On the shore
of Africa, line up each single grain
of sand, and count them individually.
The Pyramids' stone blocks, waves of each sea,
leaves on all trees, and every drop of rain -
still not enough. Count every quiet star
that gazes down through night at our bright love.
There aren't as many of them. From above
they know how very much in love we are,
but they can't count our kisses, kisses I'm
sure will stretch out beyond the end of time.