"I have heard the sunset song of the birches,
A white melody in the silence,
I have seen a quarrel of the pines.
At nightfall
The little grasses have rushed by me
With the wind men.
These things have I lived," quoth the maniac,
"Possessing only eyes and ears.
But you —
You don green spectacles before you look at roses."
When I am fast asleep,
Then tell my love the secret
That I have died to keep.