Porch with a Border of Violets

Every night you come into my dream. We call each other "tu" and together we drift about the house – as if it were your house – with a big porch brimming with sun facing a rippling pool of water and an orchard of apple and apricot with a row of plane trees with a border of shining pansies violets, greenery... I merry and gay let you, on the kilim spread out on the porch, do whatever – with me – you like; in the brightness of a light-filled noon on the first of the month of Mehr! Every night the time is only, only the first of Mehr; the place is only, only the porch; and the event only, only our play on the porch... How did this become possible: to dream every night of someone you have never seen? And to float in happiness as when you are floating in the scent of lemons... You are in all my dreams your face is printed on all my white canvases like a relief rising from the canvas itself; and the sound of your footsteps is in my ear: tap tap tap you walk around the room until nightfall. At nightfall, merry and gay, you come: again you take my hand and make me run after you from the dark room to the porch and into the arms of bright day... As if day by day without my knowing how, the impossible suddenly became possible; like passing through hell and reaching paradise. The paradise of finding, of finding your being in my heart; and a crossing, a secret crossing: – without a permit – from the border of possession to love...