You who never arrived in my hands, beloved, who were lost from the start, I don't even know what songs would please you. I have almost given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment.
All the immense images in me- the far off, deeply-felt landscape, cities, towers and bridges and unsuspected turns in the path and those powerful lands that were once pulsing with the life of gods- all the rise within me to mean you, who forever elude me.
You, beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing.
An open window in a country house- and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that i chanced upon, you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image.
Who knows? Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, seperate, in the evening.

alone, sad, and turkey image