Looking at my wrist , time now :Longing to the lover and five kisses assumed on her white forehead with respect to the local time of her pulse , and in some faraway place , separating me from her forehead an old continent and another Brunette one, and a white sea go between these continents , she stands there on the west coast of the Atlantic Ocean , look at her wrist , the time now Longing to the lover and five kisses assumed on my brown forehead with respect to the local time of my pulse ... unite our pulses on one heart clock ... as if our yearning holds the meridians and make them one package in his inflamed hand , but ... what is the point , my dear . . , pulsing beats and eats ... what is the benefit that your time is mine too , and mine is yours ... There is no place on the land brings us at once.