You are weeping something aloud For nothing That can draw in the crowd, For each of your children have departed. Drink those tears Let loose by your fears, I will come to make whole what has shattered Of you, beneath the blasphemous sun. Of your worship, You send splendor to my eyes. Even to my quivering hands, My perspiring palms, I am relaxed By the beautiful image to your porcelain face. You are for paint's coloring, When shadows have remained your thorns, As hues have been what burned you, With all voices that have scorned you. I find in each strand Of the naked brown texture In your hair, The world of mine that cannot collapse Without being in its clasp, Without being in its entanglement. I cannot, as I would not yearn To escape. I now breathe, For I would not seethe Anger to rouse suspicion Behind your reddened lips.