Springtime is ticking in our hearts... To open them, let’s try:
The world’s lazurite wholly lain within your eyes,
Same as the dark nesses of life we can defy,
Or tempt another sun to lighten the springtime’s stale ways...
Is it your hand aloft? Or the first swallow’s flight?
Is it long trembling of the eyelid? Or a fragile butterfly?
Red bead of rose rip your little mouth gives me,
Your supple body is a slim trunk of an apple tree.
Through you, I understand now the whole nature,
I make up with the rough universe’s gesture,
With Typhon which shatters ships, unconsciously;
When your foot crushes mites stepping noiselessly,

Snows, and flowers, and fruits on your way are lying,
One by one, at your eternal rhythm, they are complying!

Wednesday, January 12, 1955