Since I lost you, my darling, the sky has come near,
And I am of it, the small sharp stars are quite near,
The white moon going among them like a white bird among snow-berries,
And the sound of her gently rustling in heaven like a bird I hear.
 
And I am willing to come to you now, my dear,
As a pigeon lets itself off from a cathedral dome 
To be lost in the haze of the sky, I would like to come, 
And be lost out of sight with you, and be gone like foam.

For I am tired, my dear, and if I could lift my feet, 
My tenacious feet from off the dome of the earth
To fall like a breath within the breathing wind 
Where you are lost, what rest, my love, what rest!