Water flows beneath my eyes.
It is not tears - but to see
for a river flows through us ; ´- ;
it is hardly visible but
for that smile inside.
I am dying with you, dying
for the shifting which turns
I am dying to return it to you,
I am dying, dying with you.
Into the silk is then woven
for a word never said
to understand, to know of it
my tears are so deadly -
Into the well do they drop
like silk which is washed
is it drawn from us -
there to not go of it. |