You whispered to me

You whispered to me: "From where does this strange melancholy arise That ascends like a mountain on a silent, empty plain?" When the soul has finished its harvest, we feel Life is a wound. This secret we all know. It's a pure suffering, not at all enigmatic And clear, like you when you smile and brighten the world Don't search in vain, my beautiful curious one And now, although your voice is so melodic, be silent! Be silent, uninitiated one! Soul that knows no darkness! Innocent mouth! Even more than Life Death has often caught us in its subtle traps Better to intoxicate myself with an illusion and peacefully Sink into your clear eyes as in a dream And gently fall asleep in the shadow that slips from your eyelids!