Cantabile

Why do you sing, my dear? the light which flies
from sound to sounding melody today
will drown me with its dawn and take away
the ringing warmly of a sweet surprise.
Why do you sing, my love? the slowly eyes
of closing are delirium; to my say
and from your lips create the long delay
in tingling bodily of touching cries…
Why do you sing? If you are song then night
is just the blinking sun of day who deigns
to whirl a world around us; harmony
entwining in the dreaming. Moon and light
are shining, and this meekly hand that frames
your cheek so tenderly is listening, quietly.

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