I would have sewed you a dress
from the clouds, my Beloved,
so that you could fly and sing like a bird,
enjoy freedom, rejoice and laugh as a child,
be pure and independent,
open – hearted and natural,
as flowers in the early morning.
But I know that the wind will come
and tear this dress off from you,
and tear the bliss apart,
and Your joy will be darkened by the evil.
I know.
I would have taken you with me, my Beloved,
to endless heights,
to the depths of the ocean,
I would have pleased your eye
with the beauty of endlessness
and gentleness of the prospect.
But you may open your eyes
and disappointment will be so strong
that it will bring you pain.
I know.
I would have been able, my Beloved,
to write poetry,
inserting the scent of joy
instead of punctuation marks,
beautifying the lines with Your
favourite flowers.
But I know that someone
may tear this page out and burn it,
or tear it apart,
and you will be distressed
by losing what you hadn’t yet acquired.
I know.
I know everything.
I know everything.
I know everything.
But I am writing these verses
to gift you, my Beloved,
with a dress from the purple of the sky,
and the blue of Sunrise,
to please your ear
with the singing of a Rainbow
and fulfil your innermost desires
with the sounds of thunder,
and its purifying force.
Ceaselessly, my Beloved,
I keep scattering your Path
with Rose petals
and bringing you the light breeze,
which carries the purity of the Prospect.
And when I am doing this, my Beloved,
the one,
who knows,
surrenders
and tolerantly and bravely
helps me in this wonderful and noble work
of inspiring you, my Beloved.
Arise, Princess!