Don’t you have the strange vision sometimes
(When a dark penetrates in a house)
Of another existence for us,
Where we live in the other life’s phases?

There, a shade’s softly pressed to a shade,
And such wonderful minute there hovers,
Where as if, through the beams by eyes sent,
We unite our bodies and souls.

We afraid that a word or a move
Would get off this magnificent instant,
As if one puts his ear above
And recalls us to listen at distance.

But as soon as a candle is kindled,
Second world would this minute retire…
And from eyes through the light’s rays inclined,
Shades would run into pale-blue of fire.