You rose from the grass like a fox, observant,
Narrow eyes and narrow gaze and narrow figure in the sea of golden green.
Your capelet fluttered in the wind.
What were you staring at?
I remember the second time I saw you rose like that,
I was spying on you from afar.
You told your would-be lover
That you were content with dying your own death, and leaving him in his own happiness.
You said that with a smile. And I couldn’t—
I forced you to live, I compelled you to live. I don’t know why. I was greedy.
I don’t see you rise anymore.
You’re already standing.
Now you’ve left your lover behind—
Did he find happiness?—
And there are other things you have to do, ancient obligations just as solid and hard as the rocks beneath your feet.
You’ve left your lover behind,
And I watch you from afar,
I watch you walk,
And you disappear under the grass.