If you sing to the moon

When you hear her crying,

And you hear the river sing

Like an admired friend.

If you feel a sweet tremor

When you see the rain on Saturdays

And comprehend sadness

With astonished eyes.

If you don’t fear the night-time,

That has disguised itself in blue,

Nor the dawn,

With its bleeding heart.

If you see a child laughing

In any white tulip

And discover happiness

In any weary gaze.

If you share clear skies

With elves that you’ve invented

And believe in fairy tales

And repeat them in song.

If you whistle to the rocks

And they dance in answer,

Or you paint them in colors

Gifted to you by the sky.

If you steal soft leaves

From the plants and

Stick them in your hair, close

To everything that comes to mind.

If you play the flute

Accompanying with its song

The orange tree that admires you,

Or perhaps some apple tree.

If the sea covers you at night

With its blue mantle,

And your pillow you bought

From some barefoot vendor.

If you’re awaiting a new world

That you imagine is quite near,

You are a poet angel,

The man most envied.