I like for you to be still: it is as though you are absent
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dreams
and you are like the word Melancholy
I like for you to be still, and you seem far away
It sounds as though you are lamenting, a butterly 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
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid
I like for you to be still: it is as though you are absent
distant and full of sorrow, as though you had died
One word then, one smile, is enough
And I'm happy, happy that it's not true |
