Of thee I sing,
while butterflies
are hanging round your head,
blue girl —
Of thee I sing,
while meadows green
and silverwhite below the wind
are scenting air and hands and hair
with riches hidden in the grass
and running, glistening in the sun,
this day caressing legs and knees
of yours, blue girl in grass.
And ever heaving are the leaves
and swaying, breathing to and fro
in shadows deep,
where I am hid
in thoughts and feelings,
deep as grass.
Of thee I sing,
blue girl in grass,
while unkissed kisses
round your head
are swarming up and swarming down
in sunkissed air
and blessing you,
blue girl in grass — —