1) She steps out of the world within to touch the heart she chose.
She weeps with me, though I can’t see her face.
When sleep turns to despair and stifling silence draws too close
then comfort comes in unexpected ways.
There is sweetness in her whispers, there is wisdom in her words,
and she smells of deep desire and cooling rain,
and she talks of letting go although she knows how much it hurts,
but if all my pain is lost, what will remain?
2) So she chose to leave her source just for a world she’d hardly seen,
for one moment of a life she’ll never know.
Thus she became the woman that somehow she’s always been,
as I chose to be the man who helped her go.
There is sweetness in her whispers, there is wisdom in her words,
and she smells of one bright summer und soft grass,
and she talks of letting go although she knows how much it hurts,
that our fleeting, golden summer had to pass.
3) Every night her voice grows softer now, I hear a different call
that I’ll follow till my path draws to an end,
though I don’t know - will it dwindle, will it rise or will it fall.
My heart is whole. I do not mind the mend.
There is sweetness in her whispers, there is wisdom in her words,
and she smells of starlit mountains and warm tears,
and it’s time for letting go as it no longer really hurts.
There’ll be summer. That’s enough to face the years.
Eva, Oktober 10th, 2002
For Paul.
And Mala.