Were I to meet you again for the first time,
But in a different orchard, in a different wood—
Perhaps for us the trees would sigh differently,
Extended into infinity under a misty hood...

Perhaps among the furrowed green you'd reach your hands
For other flowers, trembling as they were birds—
Perhaps from your undiscerning, unknowing lips
Would fall some other words—some other words...

Perhaps into a cascade of flaming roses
The sun would force our souls to burst for good,
Were I to meet you again for the first time,
But in a different orchard, in a different wood...”