WHEN HERE COMES THE DAWN

When here comes the dawn, between light and purple
and I wake up so sad and I look at the day
and I can't find my white Filis,
dawn and purple and light darkens me.

I cry and my cry grows how much it grows
more the fire, and the shadow deviates;
and a clumsy ice like that ties me and cools me
that even the voice for relief dies me.

And at a point of trouble love with high fire
in this wide desert my chest,
where thinking enlivens it more and ignites:

So I cry and I burn like this and evil spreads
so much so that in the light, and in the shade and in the dew
I die in flames, and in tears I flood.