I whisper to the trees
to pass my word to the wind.
Carry this message to my love
on your currents high aloft.

My cries to the night sky;
to the moon who has been my only friend,
were for my heart, yet empty;
empty as my arms without her heart to hold.

The chorus of the night woods
cannot hide the sound of her voice within my heart;
the voice I hold like fire,
azure cool amid searing white.

Gracious wind... do not wander, do not tarry;
for the song I sing to the solstice moon
rues the loneliness that tries to wrest my spirit
from the vessel of my soul.

There is no celebration, no autumn dance
without her touch, light as hummingbird's wings.
There is no grace or mercy for this restless heart;
no joy without the star that fell into my world,
now brightly lit with a brilliance all her own.

Oh, mighty wind, take my song of longing,
my lyric of endless tears;
take them to my love.
Like eagle's wings may your currents rush
the essence of my calling.

Let his cry carry from this forest deep,
in a voice that howls its misery,
speaking in words nocturnal;
words only she and the moon can understand.

Speak peace to me from my lover's heart.
Speak peace to the tears that bleed my soul.
Pass swiftly upon time in starlight soaring,
that her lips' utterance might soothe
my pacing to and fro.

Return to me oh, rushing wind;
quickly, quickly now,
so that my soul would find its solace,
if only for a moment.

Let not my call fall upon her form
in dreamless sleep, deaf against my song.
'Tween sheets of silk, ten thousand thread,
flow cool upon her breast.

Dry the trails of wistful haunting tears
with the moment of which I dream;
when your breath carries my fingers through her hair
the way you rustle through the leaves.