Slow music's best, if you would find
Bright stars above, and hidden paths-
Though rarest music lives behind
Our loved one's sigh, or loved one's laugh.
Within their eyes, the way is clear;
You don't need light, or map, or sign,
For entrance through that door, so dear;
Or hidden insight, to their mind.
No novelty can take the place
Of finding welcome there, each minute;
A well-worn window, is their face-
No need to find their heart: you're in it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem