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!
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