She is the saviour,
She is the sight,
She gives a secret, shouldered bite.
At her mercy, before love begins,
I stand before the woman's light.
And when I retired,
And when I awoke,
The woman drew forward, like solid smoke,
One for the other, the other for the one,
She is the woman, and I her cloak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem