I like for you to be still

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,

and you hear me far away and my voice does

not touch you.

It seems as though your eyes had flown away

and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.

As all things are filled with my soul

you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.

You are like my soul, a butterfly of a dream,

and you are like the word Melancholy.

I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.

It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly

cooing like a dove.

And you hear me from far away, and my voice does

not reach you:

Let me come to be still in your silence.

And let me talk to you with your silence

that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.

You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.

Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,

distant and full of sorrows as though you had died.

One word then, one smile, is enough.

And I am happy, happy that it's not true.

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