The linden-tree I took you
Divine sightings may be uncommon, still,
when the goodly fog is thick and thrives
a goddess, too, can reappear at will. For
I paint icons, though I don't rush,
to hang this beauty by some temple throne.
Forgetfulness I paint with linden-brushes
of days through which I've lived alone.
After… The usual will happen, as it tends:
we will live the changing common story.
But this secret I'll keep telling till the end
how linden-blossoms have preserved your glory.