If you can see my soul within my eyes,
I will be softer than a bed of down
For your fatigue to sigh in and to swoon;
I will be kinder to you and more sweet
Than after vain adieux returning soon,
And tenderer than a sky bedimmed with doves!
Ah! if you feel my heart rise in my eyes,
Like the sick perfume of the autumn rose,
If you will enter on my spirit's waste,
Upon whose stones no foot but yours shall sound,
If you will love my visions and my vows,
I will be more your kin than all your own!
Upon my soul's wild thyme and moss, and on
Its bare stones where the sun is wont to dance,
And in its wind with fire and solace laden,
In the whole desert of my crimson love,
I will immerse you in my honeycombs.
Ah! can you gaze into my blinding soul,
And know my heart has leapt into my eyes,
As the sling sends after the singing bird
A stone at the mysterious welkin thrown?...
If you will scan the desert of mine eyes,
O you will see what suffering immense,
And what vast joy and silence how divine,
When, from my soul's height I shall bear you at,
We shall feel rise in us the wondrous wave
Of scents of roses and the falling night!...