My eyes forgot the heavens’ blue,
To them the sun’s dust is not gold,
But I live just one substance through,
That’s to the amethyst’s planes owned.
‘Cause that that, drunker than young spring
And troubling stronger than idea,
The lilac fires have to sing
And coldly play with colors here.
And for the heart with pain and shame,
A dream comes, tender and deceiving:
As a crystal in the candles’ flame,
To stay in cold of lilac singing.