New Year, don't come to our homes, for we are wanderers
from a ghost-world, denied by man.
Night flees from us, fate has deserted us
We live as wandering spirits
She stood before the sun, screaming:
'Sun! You are like my rebellious heart
The night asks who am I ?
I am its secrets-anxious, black, profound
Why do we fear words
when they have been rose-palmed hands,
fragrant, passing gently over our cheeks,
and glasses of heartening wine
Blow out the candle and leave us strangers here
We are two parts of the night, so what is the meaning of light?