ODE TO A CERTAIN EVENING

No matter what we say or do not say,
No matter what we do or do not do,
Night will remain this way.
Night will send forth rumors of the day
Even as beauty covers them, and me, and you.

If Night is producer of the dreams it makes,
Happier than day with all day’s arguments and books,
If the wind sighs or it gently shakes
The moon-lit grasses when the moon light looks

Upon its slaves soothed and kissed by sleep
And blesses them, the saddest are glad
And jealous thoughts drown in thoughts too deep,
For we are passionate.  Then do not call us mad.

For it is of dreams our feelings are made,
And in these dreams nothing is sad,
Our anger melts, and turns into a shade.
Oh, Night today we were very sad

But now you blaze with a thousand fires,
Small, secret and distant—like all our desires.

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