I want the morning not to know

I want the morning not to know

the name that I told to the night;

in the dawn wind, silently,

may it evaporate like a teardrop.

I want the day to proclaim

the love that I hid from the morning,

and (bent over my open heart)

to set it aflame, like a grain of incense.

I want the sunset to forget

the secret I told to the day,

and to carry it away with my love

in the folds of its pale robe!