Methought my racing field lay under the skies; this plaything of water and clay, I regarded as my world.

Thy unveiling broke the spell of searching glances; I mistook this blue vault for Heaven.

The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, methought, would keep me company, fatigued; they dropped out in the twists and turns of space:

One leap by Love ended all the pother, I fondly imagined, the earth and sky were boundless.

My silent secrecies of love were but effusions in disguise; what I had believed to be restraint, betrayed my passion even more.

What I esteemed as the clarion call of the caravan was but the plaintive cry of a traveller, weary and forlorn.