When the moon shines over the park trees,
Travelling majesty in shadowy nights,
carressing the mid-summer's breeze delight,
Flirting fondly with a lonesome soul's flight
I dance in my lover’s sweet presence,
And sometimes in circles.
There is an end, I always forget;
I said: “you are an imitation of love
Your beauty and grace is all that a poet seeks;
But there lies no love but only dust and stones
In the fever of days.”
Whirl, whirl, whirl;
Spread those invisible wings.
Unfold, the treasures of deep within.
Migrate towards the eternal spring.
Close so close,
Your tender lips.
Closing in even more;
Scarlet rose- your lips.