Upon the cusp of evening shade suffused
with rays of twilight sleek and luminous
my love lingers beyond the ashen span
which glistens on the bed of Tithonus.
As summers wane and dusk invidious
imbues the wilting arch of firmament,
so equally my nimble ardor swells
to drench the stars, gleaming and permanent.
When autumn showers form a breathless mist
which clings upon the face of cobblestones,
the lovestruck poet should not hope to list
what nature and imagination loan.
He drafts within his heart unspoken songs
of boundless pitch which no page could abide,
when transient moments grow a bit more long
and deathless beauty walks along his side.
These subtle metamorphoses run deep
inside our souls before we get too old,
when kindred hearts both skip a single beat
and friendly glances grow a bit more bold.
But little else is crueler to discern
than gusty changes once their course has run,
that fan a feeble heart so that it burns,
but blow out fire in the other one.