A long elegy for a woman who practices absence

The minutes obsess me with what is unbelievable; you say I am the prey under the hunter's eye, and I am the prey that suffers to escape from the claws of absence, and all attempts to escape from you are drowned by your eyes there, in the blue charged with memories. The impossible, madness, nonsense line up before me; when the scent of your perfume coming from a strange land intensifies, and every time I put the coffee cup on the fire, the scent of cardamom from you is fragrant, the scent of our meeting and the sunset journey between us.