While I lay on the grass
It flutes a tune to me.
From place to place
It seems to pass
Once very near, then far.
It is a friend of mine
A flower by a mossy stone
Hidden from everyone’s sight
Whom only I love and hear,
So it belongs to me.
In the morn, it reminds me
Of the beautiful dark night
And at night once again
It lights up my life,
And so I feel it is a ‘mixture of opposites’.
This was a story of the past.
Now, there is none in its place
But it has shifted to my heart
No flower, but an invisible thing;
I long to see it well, but fail.
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