Only my face and the sky.
The only universe.
My face, alone, and the sky.
(Between them, the pure breeze,
a fond caress, the only hand
that brings so much plentifulness;
the breeze, always rising and falling.)
Above me, all that is life,
the entire dream within me,
brushing against my senses with its wings,
that he has brought into harmony.
. . . . . . .Are you perhaps
the breeze that comes and goes
from the sky, love, to my face?
translated by Dennis Maloney & Clark Zlotchew