When thy lips did kiss, I questioned not,
Nor sought for wine, nor heaven’s thought.

A tremble stirred through time’s still face,
And reason fled without a trace.

What need have I of chaliced gold,
When breath of thine makes rapture bold?

I spoke no verse — the world grew dumb,
One sigh from thee, and stars were numb.

They call me mad, by flame possessed,
Yet only ash has truly rest.

Thou kissed — and night forgot its name,
The moon turned pale, the sun grew tame.

I dwell in hush, where echoes sleep,
Half-living still, in silence deep.

A kiss — and silence found its cry,
Its voice unloosed beneath thy sky.