03 May At La Spieza
Clouds empty their rain into the seas,
Seas give up waters and clouds restart:
Appointed are times for all things to be,
For all things to unite or come apart.
Nights receive enough of Brother Moon,
Days retire from kissing Sister Sun:
But our departing is always too soon,
For with you I am never fully done.—
All know seeing never fills the eye,
Neither does touch satisfy the hand,
So I disdain sight of clear sky,
So I hate the soft feel of sand.
For my only shores your lips contain,
The heavens in your eyes mine own:
So why must I see or touch in vain
If my eye and hand enjoy you alone?