1. May rain bless the place where we stood one evening in the sanctuary,

    Lamenting love, while our glances were our speech.

  2. And when my reproachers could no longer make sense of our affair,

    They slumbered from sorrow, though they were awake.

  3. It was as though, in our subtlety, we were the intended meaning,

    And they, amid our silence, were the words.

Sol 5.6