The love that belongs to night

 
Leaving evening's darkening veil, dusting itself with sultry earth,
night arrives—a mountain night, pitch-black and stark.
Human weariness seems to lift,
firefly light glows in chambers of joy.
Yet why does darkness spread so wide around us?
Why is the night sometimes so dim?


Yellow—it brings such companionship,
why doesn't night become that golden hue?
The blue of sorrow, the color of night itself—
what harm would come if it were otherwise?
Why don't nature's rows of green merge with night?
Perhaps they do, and we can't see, but they can…
Or they can't see, and we do.


If night were different,
would it still feel so beloved?
Did the Creator shape night to please us all?
Does night's color exist only in night itself?


No—it lives within our minds!
If I gather all the stories night holds—
in my own way, in night's way,
then the enchanting night remains, always remains—
whatever color it may wear!


Night meets the mind in the shadow of eyes,
this is how it happens, how it comes to be…
When I love night's body well,
night loves me just the same!
Night's longing reaches toward me,
my longing reaches toward night—
when they become one,
truly, a deep love blooms with night!