She

She;
Clothed in darkness,
Bathed in light.

She;
Where soft whispers
Mingled with scents, obscure
Touch and dance,
Curling in midnight or morn.

She;
Whose eyes, clouded in sorrow
Cling and dip in sensual smoke,
Hovering, untainted,
Losing sight in midnight horizon.

She;
Whose sighs, deep and long,
Feign a heart cracked with doubts,
A soul torn in a soft, cloudless danger.

She, how I know her!
What, that beauty, with hands of tulips
Sighs in her breath, gropes in her longing.
Ah, to say that she is beautiful!
An angel walked ne’er so freely.

I talked, for hours, afternoons, days;
And every word clung to my introspection,
Every laughter, passed in calm, serenity.
Every jest of her innocence…
I float, in an ocean of soft, summer breezes.
I float, moving in the air of summer crickets.
For with her, the time slips under horizon,
The distance stretches to infinity,
The infinity falls to breathlessness.

What may I say?
I am in love.
And such a word does not describe!
For where could I rest, tired,
After bitter hours of restless walking,
Searching, yearning, dreaming for her.
I am no longer human.
A soft trickle of honey leaves me drunk,
I revel in senselessness!
For ne’er could a mortal creature feel such liveliness.

Enigmas float in her air, dropped like fruits
In her etching, evading words.
Who is she?
The darkness slips, leaving shadows,
Like footprints, on the marks of her eyes.
I search, and linger;
But the veil of her surprises leaves me in trance.