The star that rises in the morning
Hangs irrevocably above me.
Its light is the product of the mind.

It casts my shadow by the doing of brilliant light. Freeing myself from its follow is a plight
I know well.

You are the closest star until the morning
Living and burning and being in the dark
--the splendor of that lightless radiance;
but where there is no follow there is no guide:
You are a proxminity never the vicinity of something I could see.

You are the closest star until the morning.
Although you are closest you are still far
Even the sun is closer to me than you