I do not see the mountains that glow of iron, iron that my soul hungers for
Or the moon that burns like a candle above rows and rows of stars

I do not hear the trees whisper of me and you, the fire burns the sonnet,
The night roars like a panther, hunting for the gazelle of my dream

I do not feel your breast in my hands, your peachy lips on my lips
or even your fire in my soul

Like the wind that follows the butterfly,
Like the child trails a mother
You guide me from the intoxicating pines,

From the sea of glass
From the dark cedar groves of my childhood

To the zenith where I grow faster than before,
Where love brings us garlands of kisses and marigolds
Where earth and sky coalesce