Closed window of a cruel owner,
how many sighs must heave for you?
You came riding full moons and rising suns
in a breeze scented of wild roses.
Eyes of ink and lips like a ripe fig,
you made my heart burn and consume
like a candle.
Your words gurgled like the clear water
of a stream.
Now they’re still. But mine are tears for love,
they’re not water.