Those words of mine, they often lie
And say the things I cannot say;
They touch upon your naked thigh
And render thoughts into decay.

All thoughts absent, the vigor strong,
Your gentle touch shall me redeem:
As I your body cast in song
Awash my own, celestial stream.

The deed is done, wherefore we part,
Divide we must when dries the spring.
Although to me you cede you heart
My love to you will never cling.

My moaning soul, O deep its cleft,
It looks for love in earthly creeks—
It flows on lies till nothing’s left;
Like water, rocks, it wets and slicks.