RIMA XIII

Your eyes are blue, and when you laugh,
their soft splendor makes me think of
the brilliant morning sunlight
            that is reflected on the sea.

Your eyes are blue, and when you cry,
the transparent teardrops in them
make me think of drops of dew
            on a violet.

Your eyes are blue, and if in their depths
an idea glows like a point of light,
it makes me think of an evening star
            swallowed by the sky.