I will hide the sun in golden wheat,
and place it by your side.
And catch the wind, summer sweet,
for only your breath to confide.
The birds of song I will softly ask
to set upon your hands and sing.
In your glow they will joyfully bask,
in your hands their feathered wings.
The flowerfolds of your hair,
with gypsy petals I will scent.
Pulling morning dew from the air
into my hands, your lips I'll quench.
When the night sky presses purple hues, you can look into my eyes.
For you they will carry all the blues,
of every seasons daylight skies.
If in the dark and cool night,
you should walk away.
Under the maudlin moons pale light,
for your feet I will turn to clay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem