English
Number 21
Moon of my dreams! There is not a single moment free of grief for you,
not a moment when my heart is not tangled like your hair.
As long as your hair and your graceful form lean together,
no one's back or figure stays without its curve.
I swallow the grief of losing you, and yet I am glad,
for whoever carries grief for you carries no real sorrow at all.
Who ever laid a hand on the edge of your curling hair
without their heart turning as radiant as your face?
I will not spell out my grief with a pen,
for the pen has two tongues and cannot be trusted.
My tales are long,
but who can I tell them to, when I have no companion?
In this world my only companions are the dawn and the morning breeze;
beyond these two I have no friend at all.
I should not tell my secret to the dawn,
since its tongue has no firm lock to hold it.
Nor should I tell the morning breeze, for the breeze
drifts everywhere and keeps no confidence either.
So I will go and tell it to your image instead,
for who could I trust more closely than that?