Through maps of thirst and seas,
Traversing the labyrinth of absence,
Your comely sight finally greets me,
Welcoming the distance warrior
From his now distant wars
Into your forbidden shore.

What do I make of life now,
But thirst in search of its music,
And death, but eyes breaking into sight.

It is love to attempt to measure
The immeasurable with mystery of tears.
So, whoever says love is faith is mistaken,
For love is deed, as hate is deed.
These emotions do not confine themselves
In their shells, they go out into the sea,
Travel the great distances
Till they find their true meanings
In the stillness of eyes,
And how great is the Deed
In such stillness!
But, how do you distinguish
Love from hate?

Love betrays death,
While hate, a traitor to its birth.

Feel the untouchable touch,
The speechful deed!

Do hate, the holy terror
Of tongueful spear.

I come to you, my Muse,
In rushing stillness,
Into your scheme I go,
Your uniting chasm,
Into your dividing peace.

The unharmed wound bathes
In its shadow, washing the absence
Away with darkest light,
Till the tip of tears
Wounds the eyes
With chords of sight.

Your lover is coming,
Riding the waves of songs,
While angels dive into the second death
Of a first true love.

Those eyes tell with their silence,
Your grace the prayer of sin,
Such melodious limbs confess
The virtue of distances.