A day, a week, a month, and then a quarter of a year;
My heart still shivering is when you are near.
Where do you come from, my dear;
What of you are made? Rose? Spring? or the Air?

 

A glimpse of your shadow so makes me as blessed,
My heavy eyelids shall keep open
 as thy image mocks my sight
How could you do this…

 

Be it not said, be it not said.

 

Just a note ….