While watching all these early buds and swallows,
I can feel tonight
that my heart's slowly growing over sorrows
as someone's horizon on smiley days might;

that it's getting bigger like all plants around
and light as a feather,
and that all happiness that's above the ground
and a Hell of pain wouldn't really matter:

It's longing for all things that a life as such
could give nice to thy,
and completely nothing wouldn't be too much--
its eager desire and hopes are so high.

Everything that's happened has been just a play
of my heart on fire;
my true love has never been given away
as much as I could and as I desire;

There are, in my deeps, gentle tides of words
never let outside;
I could give my heart to everyone on worlds,
yet, it would remain a lot of it inside.

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Poem: [link]