August Night
On a midsummer night, on a night that was eerie with stars,
In a wood too deep for a single star to look through,
You led down a path whose turnings you knew in the darkness,
But the scent of the dew-dripping cedars was all that I knew.
I drank of the darkness, I was fed with the honey of fragrance,
I was glad of my life, the drawing of breath was sweet;
I heard your voice, you said, “Look down, see the glow-worm!”
It was there before me, a small star white at my feet.
We watched while it brightened as though it were breathed on and burning,
This tiny creature moving over earth’s floor—
“‘L’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle,’”
You said, and no more.