The fires that burn on all the hills Light up the landscape grey, The arid desert land distills The fervours of the day. The clear white moon sails through the skies And silvers all the night, I see the brilliance of your eyes And need no other light. The death sighs of a thousand flowers The fervent day has slain Are wafted through the twilight hours, And perfume all the plain. My senses strain, and try to clasp Their sweetness in the air, In vain, in vain; they only grasp The fragrance of your hair. The plain is endless space expressed; Vast is the sky above, I only feel, against your breast, Infinities of love.
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