O Silent Intruder!

O silent intruder of my dreams,

From where do you hail?

Are you from the babbling waters

Colliding against the rough cliffs,

Or from the densest greenery

That man has ever beheld?

O silent intruder of my dreams,

From where do you hail?

Are you from my native place,

Beside the golden mountains?

Or from the shattered huts of love,

Where man thrives not?

O silent intruder of my dreams,

How do you live?

Do you live by the music of the current

That buffets against the silver shore?

Or do you lie high in the trees,

Silhouetted by the last sunset?

O silent intruder of my dreams,

I bid you: please free me.

Free me, from the endless tangles

Of feelings intertwined;

Free me, from the trammels of life,

Which let not my actions proclaim truth.

Free me, from the barbed wires of memory,

That haunt the lost mind on its journey.

Bound am I by something unexplained—

From the depths of mystery,

From fathoms of complexity,

I strive for it:

“The hill that was close until you reached it.”

The days, the nights, and the twilight—

And the sunrise and me.