Star
How far far away
one star looks, when I'm lying on my back.
At the same time how near, as if linked
by a golden thread to the corner of my squinting eye,
and in the night, when I gently wake,
how tightly I press against the window-pane, peeping out.
Abruptly, as if sprouting,
as if waiting to be called, as if welcoming,
suddenly, a lonely flame flares up within my soul
in regrets that gust like the wind.
I rise in my white night-clothes
and clasp my hands to my heart.
one star looks, when I'm lying on my back.
At the same time how near, as if linked
by a golden thread to the corner of my squinting eye,
and in the night, when I gently wake,
how tightly I press against the window-pane, peeping out.
Abruptly, as if sprouting,
as if waiting to be called, as if welcoming,
suddenly, a lonely flame flares up within my soul
in regrets that gust like the wind.
I rise in my white night-clothes
and clasp my hands to my heart.
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