I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
　　　　It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooinglike a dove.
　　　　And you hear me from far away and you voice does not rouch you:
　　　　Let me come to be still in your silence.
　　　　And let me talk to you with your silence
　　　　that is brightas a lamp, simple as a ring.
　　　　You are like the night, with it's stillness and constellations.
　　　　Your silence is that of a star, as remore and can did.
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　
　　　　I like for you to be still, it is as though you were absent,
　　　　distant anf full of sorrow as though you had died.
　　　　One word then, one smile, is enough.
　　　　And I am happy, happy that it's not true.