RIMA LV

Amid the loud uproar of the revelry
            the echo of a sigh
caressed my ears, like a distant
            note of music.

I recognized the echo of that sigh,
formed by the same air I have breathed,
the scent of a hidden flower that grows
            in a dark cloister.

My beloved of the moment asked me
affectionately, «What are you thinking?»
«Oh, nothing…» «But why do you cry?» «My sadness
is happy; it is the wine that is sad.»