Starry night and pestling slow; of basil
and the beauty of the loved one untold—
of each pestling; a heavenly basil—shoot.
Nights and pestle stabbing descends;
a longing slit lovelorn’ necks
soften, come—tender, on the soul tread
and for me count it endowment
When you echo, I burst unto flowers
and with them each blab hennas
if I meet thee; I bind the stars;
earrings avow our converse
Groaning for every abandonment;
burdens with indigo tears
and foretells of nights; starless
Love are thee but so quixotic
mirage; not here and not vanished
alas with my soul had you watered
and alas the life had not flowered.