Your soul, which loves my own,
Is woven with it into an old Tibetan rug.
Strand by strand, these enamored colours,
Stars, that courted each other across heaven's length.
Our feet are resting on this treasure
Stitches numbering in the thousands.
Sweet desert son on your musk plant throne,
How long has your mouth kissed my own
and cheek to cheek has time in colour woven us?
-Else Lasker-Schüler (Translation : Westley Barnes, 2018)