HIS LOVE SLEEPS ON THE BREAST OF THE POET

You will never understand the love I feel,
because you sleep on me, you are asleep.
And I conceal you, haunted, as I weep,
pursued by a voice of penetrating steel.

The law that shakes both flesh and stars that roll
is piercing now my breast so full of grief,
and turbid troubled words have sunk their teeth
into the wings of your relentless soul.

On steeds of light with manes of lucent green.
some people leap across the garden gate.
They want to see your body and my pain.

But keep on sleeping, my life's only mate,
and hear my broken blood as violins keen!
Look, even now they're lying there in wait!