Apreggio (adapted from Samain)

A lute's liquor breathes across the soft enclosure,
Stirring up the shadows of a poem – your silence
Drifts across the night; who dreams your floating locks
And hides the moon? The forests, Silvia, Cynthia,
Hold back the beautiful threshold, touched
With purple eyes, and drown the little star
Who cries. Come, while the silver staircase
Falls, to the garden of blooming good-byes,
Where the mourners who dream of the moonlight
Lie.