September Night

Say no more I said,

I will pass by your window

like a dream of the past,

and at day break

I still be here,

like a faithful devotee

at the feet of his beloved.

No longer will I seek

the dew of the morning

to quench the fire

burning in my tears.

I've come from far away
 
to present to you

the purpose of these

flowers, and even though

my words may have

no value nor I have

any treasures with which

to buy or conquer

the faithfulness of

my hundred enemies,

I offer you the craziness

of this love which

may die or live day

after day to the known

and the unknown

in a single concern

for your approval.

This blessing which I

don't know if I enjoy

or suffer, is becoming

unbearable, and --who

knows?--, the cure for

this may well be but to

give myself away

to the the dead serious

silence of the moon,

or the quiet, fragrant

coolness of the stars:

They will sing forever

the esoteric madness

of this September night,

which we both remember.