All these old poems, for you I re-wrote …
With the longing of the leaves crying under the waltz,
And from your silence violantin smoothed –
Over my soul, who, with love, opened it.
Now run away, as if I were the broken mirror …
Are you sad or you hid in the clouds?
A thought to have, ask a look, or a whisper
When the candles start and melt away.