Classic Poem

And now the heart
overflows its beats. Everything
is simple and pure
like a water that falls
unreceived
Because love
has entered this shadow just
like a morning
through the shutters, everything flows
as if on an aerial river
of mildness, like
a sensation that evades
definition, like a peace
of pillows undisturbed.

There is no song
Love sleeps before the breeze
in the cool
of its own grace. There is
no exhilaration nor tremor nor cry.
There is a flow
mingling with the skin
along our hearing. There is
a solitary, mystical communion
of this here and now
that stirs us or is soundless
and of time that extends
without beginning
I believe the heart
overflows its beats.