“When I cannot sing my heart, I can only speak my mind.”
Child of nature, you are beautiful and true.
No wonder the sky weeps, for only its tears ever touch your skin.
Child of nature, you are warm and loving.
No wonder I am so hesitant, for I cannot understand what I do not recognize.
Without the distance between letters, ink would hold no meaning.
But what reasons do we have for the spaces between friends?
Without the hollowness of their bodies, instruments would make no music.
But how do we justify the emptiness of our own hearts?
Once I believed that solitude was identical to loneliness.
But then I realized that even the dusk and the dawn could seem alike.
Once I believed that partition was the stumbling block to passion.
But then I realized that void and substance were necessary lovers.
Child of nature, I am no stranger to infatuation, but I am an infant to love.
In all my little faults let your sweet comprehension thrive.
May there be distinction in our tenderness
And in our remoteness let there be familiarity.
Oh child of nature, instruct me in the geometry of affection.