LXVIIISuddenly the window of my heart flew open this morning, the window that looks out on your heart.I wondered to see that the name by which you know me is written in April leaves and flowers, and I sat silent.The curtain was blown away for a moment between my songs and yours.I found that your morning light was full of my own mute songs unsung; I thought that I would learn them at your feet—and I sat silent.
Suddenly the window of my heart flew open this morning, the window that looks out on your heart.
I wondered to see that the name by which you know me is written in April leaves and flowers, and I sat silent.
The curtain was blown away for a moment between my songs and yours.
I found that your morning light was full of my own mute songs unsung; I thought that I would learn them at your feet—and I sat silent.