In My Sky At Twilight

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud

and your form and colour are the way I love them.

You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips

and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,

the sour wine is sweeter on your lips,

oh reaper of my evening song,

how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoons

wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.

Huntress of the depth of my eyes, your plunder

stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

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