• He soul dances on the wind
    and I lay upon the rocks.
    My skin chills over,
    blood turns to fire;
    her eyes are the sun,
    glowing pure and luminous.
    Something about the way she is,
    it moves me;
    like the breeze between leaves
    it confuses me.
    So
    I try to understand-
    as if it were the most secluded nature,
    never seen before nor understood entirely-
    what it is in her dance
    that makes my rocks,
    my lovely home upon the rocks,
    seem so useless.
    So feeble an attempt at happiness.
    I could never be happy here.
    No, not like she.
    Her soul is dancing on the wind,
    and it is laughing at me!