The Winter Song
I.
There is something you can say with words
And something you can’t;
There are things you can touch with the tips
Of your tingling lightning bolts —
And things you can’t;
There are marvellous blooming worlds
You can smell and caress —
And others you can’t;
Yes, there is just this much you can do
And that much you can’t.
II.
A chanting waterfall drizzles your face
With bohemian crystal pure tears,
As the two of you, happily joyous,
Bathe in cold winter’s sun rays
Free of yesterdays
And of yesterday’s fears.
Innocent, soft, gentle lines,
Contours without a name,
Void of form as a songbird’s voice
Born in the darkness of pines
And lost in the meadow or plain.
III.
How from the warmth of a loving heart
And from the highest regard
For her, could you possibly muster those
Words that have shattered the rose?
I went outside: on the ground I found
Shards of a broken cloud.
IV.
So I was sweeping up the floor of my mind
When you smiled to me;
The window-sills went south,
Windows clouded and clouds — they cleared.
Time broke its hip and went on
Limping. Curtains disappeared,
Candles lit up by themselves
In pink, green, yellow, and blue
Stripes on white.
China statuettes jumped from the shelves
And gone mad on the carpet,
Air became liquid, wine — solid.
I was sweeping up the floor of my mind
As you went by
And out of complete chaos
A new life was born
