'IN THE MOON thou sendest thy love letter to me,' said the night to the sun.
'I leave my answers in tears upon the grass.'

YOU WERE IN THE centre of my heart, therefore when my heart wandered she never found you; you hid yourself from my loves and hopes till the last, for you were always in them.
You were the inmost joy in the play of my youth, and when I was too busy with the play the joy was passed by.
You sang to me in the ecstasies of my life and I forgot to sing to you.

I EVER GO seeking for this self of mine;
but how can I know
the fugitive, who flits in dreams
in changing forms and guises?
Often have I listened to its voice
in the heart of my own songs,
but never know I where it dwells.
The hours pass, the light fades,
the farewell tune is wafted in the evening breeze
from the flute of a passer-by.