No, that was not passion,
It was the vague tenderness
Inspired by a sickly child,
Lang syne, and moon pale nights.
The spirit sings only
When the heart is moved,
When, shaken by love’s power, it trembles,
Broods, draws back, says not a word.
True passion might in fact
Have been…these pages,
That were they written in happier times
Would have appeared as tears, not verses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.