Variations

At times, my heart is frail as crystal glass.
A rush of wind may break it into flakes,
That, sprinkled on the ripe, leaf-covered grass,
Will soon be cruelly drawn by reckless rakes.

At times, my heart tolls like the morning bronze,
That fills the dewy air, those mystic bells!
Or, taken by the beauty of the swans,
It falls into bright dreams, deeper than wells...

But if I saw you, love, among the crowd,
Your silent feline steps down the cold lane,
I'd see, between wild crows, a gentle dove,

And then, my heart would rave, and cry out loud
Wild songs of desperation, chimes insane:
Such are the variations of my love.