Some are saying about a witched islet, on sea, afar...
The ships around are drowning into waves.
All metal of them folds and comes apart,
The tacks come out to dig into the banks.
Oh, it’s not a tale... to me befell the same:
Everything that tails my nature and holds my helm,
The steely will, the genius that overwhelm
Dizzy have left me and clung to thee.
But suddenly, love superseded everything,
With spellbound chains, grasping it fetters me;
I cast the anchor on this realm where I’ve found my chance,
Choosing to dwell right here all my life and rest.

Lest to touch whatever outward harm our nest,
My Oceans of Love will overflow under your glance.

Friday, March 11, 1955