Source
In the echo of dawn,
whispers the dawn,
flutter glimmers in my pupils,
the deserted winter streets
cry out without delay,
and the hinges cry
as they shake the cold windows.
In silence I cannot silence
the nights that shelter me,
murmur secrets
on the quiet pillow,
your face and mine,
on the edge of sleep
to brush against each other in an instant
of longed-for bliss.