I should come bearing gifts
But silver and gold I have none,
No time nor flight to reach your side,
Touch you and pour my heart in song.
I am humbler than the Palestinian carpenter,
So I send the wind to caress your shoulder:
In his gentle touch may you find my hand.
I send the moon to bathe you in his light,
Rest well, the unblinking eye of heaven
Rests upon you by my command.
I send the stars to claim my desires,
If I had a million eyes I'd lay all on you!
Silence I bid to imitate my lonely heart,
To what shall it beat apart from your speech?
And Time, what shall I make of him?
A friend, my hand in his and yours in mine,
Though he cannot carry us to his own end
May he hold dear this paper and these words
Penned for you. My dear, I give you life eternal!
But most of all, I cast these words to the wind,
Hoping they kiss your lips and stain your tongue;
That when you speak of love, you speak only of me,
Though bound by space and heaven's forbidding will
We will be one, like spirits raised by the same gourd.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I never get tired of this poem.