The one who loves me is alone.
Alone she loves,
Without meaning or melody or tone.
I saw her one day in a forest by a stream.
Oh shadow. Oh blue dream.
From bough to bough in my poetry
I in the world became the world and then became free.
Take a look at these. I wrote them when no light shone.
When I was the only light. When I was alone.
Alone I love,
Alone I know,
Alone I came, and alone I go.
Alone was how you found me.
Tomorrow, darkly,
When you see me faintly,
When your lips with mine agree,
I will know at last the reason for my poetry.
Not a meaning or a melody or a tone
Will be in them until then. I wrote them for you alone.
