What poems do you write for me,
O sovereign brother?

What songs do you dedicate to me
without seeing my face
or knowing my name?

In what mercifully alien tongue
are your prayers of me spoken?

And by what brooks
and under which installment
of the universal moon do you stop
and pen the thoughts
of your heart to me?

In the broken colors of the earth,
I welcome you across the sea of souls
to read what I have put down
in my private books
in an ink thrice-strained by love.