As in the simple ages, I have given you my heart,
like a wide-spreading flower that opens pure and
lovely in the dewy hours; within its moist petals
my lips have rested.
The flower, I gathered it with fingers of flame;
say nothing to it: for all words are perilous; it
is through the eyes that soul listens to soul.
The flower that is my heart and my avowal
confides in all simplicity to your lips that it
is loyal, bright and good, and that we trust in
virgin love as a child trusts in God.
Leave wit to flower on the hills in freakish
paths of vanity; and let us give a simple welcome
to the sincerity that holds our two true hearts
within its crystalline hands;
Nothing is so lovely as a confession of souls
one to the other, in the evening, when the flame
of the uncountable diamonds burns like so many
silent eyes the silence of the firmaments.