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My Familiar Dream

My Familiar Dream
I often have this dream, strange, penetrating,
Of a woman, unknown, whom I love, who loves me,
And who’s never, each time, the same exactly,
Nor, exactly, different: and knows me, is loving.
Oh how she knows me, and my heart, growing
Clear for her alone, is no longer a problem,
For her alone: she alone understands, then,
How to cool the sweat of my brow with her weeping.
Is she dark, blonde, or auburn? – I’ve no idea.
Her name? I remember it’s vibrant and dear,
As those of the loved that life has exiled.
Her eyes are the same as a statue’s eyes,
And in her voice, distant, serious, mild,
The tone of dear voices, those that have died.

It rains in my heart

It rains in my heart
As it rains on the town,
What languor so dark
That soaks to my heart?
Oh sweet sound of the rain
On the earth and the roofs!
For the dull heart again,
Oh the song of the rain!
It rains for no reason
In this heart lacking heart.
What? And no treason?
It’s grief without reason.
By far the worst pain,
Without hatred, or love,
Yet no way to explain
Why my heart feels such pain