I want to pick you a bouquet
Of promised, yet unwritten tales,
Of trembling borealis waves
That subtly dance the night away.
For that bouquet I'll also bring
Drops of serenity, a breath,
So pearly smooth, and a caress
Of morning in the newborn spring,
On which we met in distant days…
Can flowers make a storm dispel?
My soul discards its armored shell
In your ethereal embrace
And twines itself into a thread
To tie the bouquet I create;
So those who weave and cut the fate
Could only break their shears instead.
At last, I'll grace it with the gleams
Of stellar blooms that grow in space.
If stars prefer to bind their ways,
How can I dare to end their dreams?
I am myself, as stars that rove,
By myths and meanings bound to you
And can't imagine any view
Of me alone on skies' alcove.
I only hope you won't deny
To take that bouquet in your hands.
Because with it, through times and lands,
I trust you with my inner light.
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