Translating the rain
I wish I'd known from the very start
Which mountain the sun came from
For your eyes can be deceiving in rain
Fountains are rain corralled then sprayed. I’m tempted
Into sleeping on your neck. To serve a servitude of roses.
In which green bay where the rolling sea spies on me
That’s deep, but not at all clear. Like seawater,
lagoons on tropical Islands that are lost on me.
Kind of like fantasy.
I wish you and I knew from the very start
That in our heart of hearts
You do not have a way to deal with a watery death
Water is a better sort of wound
Because water wishes from the very beginning
that human hands remain unpolluted by blood
And that is the key to the music box hidden in the secret
garden, where the door is always closed, where roses
Stay with the stories and water dilutes the tears of loved ones simply astonishingly wet before you know it
You are. Water has the urge to repeat
So, when I reach the end of your hand
You reach the bridge, the bridge of sighs
On the verge of doubt;
Eject me from the river
Soak me in the sun
I break it to you:
Dreams do come true.
Passing clouds, waves and tides congregate
So I just went and went and went
I took the shade of this old water tree,
even though she was tired and broken,
to cover you but I'd love to see you
kiss the sun with your wet lips
and drink the water from my mouth
as you watch my heart melt.
Which mountain the sun came from
For your eyes can be deceiving in rain
Fountains are rain corralled then sprayed. I’m tempted
Into sleeping on your neck. To serve a servitude of roses.
In which green bay where the rolling sea spies on me
That’s deep, but not at all clear. Like seawater,
lagoons on tropical Islands that are lost on me.
Kind of like fantasy.
I wish you and I knew from the very start
That in our heart of hearts
You do not have a way to deal with a watery death
Water is a better sort of wound
Because water wishes from the very beginning
that human hands remain unpolluted by blood
And that is the key to the music box hidden in the secret
garden, where the door is always closed, where roses
Stay with the stories and water dilutes the tears of loved ones simply astonishingly wet before you know it
You are. Water has the urge to repeat
So, when I reach the end of your hand
You reach the bridge, the bridge of sighs
On the verge of doubt;
Eject me from the river
Soak me in the sun
I break it to you:
Dreams do come true.
Passing clouds, waves and tides congregate
So I just went and went and went
I took the shade of this old water tree,
even though she was tired and broken,
to cover you but I'd love to see you
kiss the sun with your wet lips
and drink the water from my mouth
as you watch my heart melt.
