You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
And you are like the word Melancholy.
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence.
And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.