Do you remember how you walked with me   down the street into the square?   How the women selling rosemary   pressed the branches to your chest,   promised luck and all the rest,   and put their fingers in your hair?      I had met you just the day before,   like an accident of fate,   in the window there behind your door.   How I wanted to break in   to that room beneath your skin,   but all that would have to wait.      In the Carmen of the Martyrs,   with the statues in the courtyard   whose heads and hands were taken,   in the burden of the sun;   I had come to meet you   with a question in my footsteps.   I was going up the hillside   and the journey just begun.      My sister says she never dreams at night   there are days when I know why;   those possibilities within her sight,   with no way of coming true.   Some things just don't get through   into this world , although they try.      In the Carmen of the Martyrs   with the statues in the courtyard   whose heads and hands were taken,   in the burden of the sun;   I had come to meet you   with a question in my footsteps.   I was going up the hillside   and the journey just begun.      All I know of you   is in my memory   All I ask is you   Remember me.