my soul is sick to-day; my soul is sick with absence; my soul has the sickness of silence; and my eyes light it with tedium. i catch sight of hunts at a standstill, under the blue lashes of my memories; and the hidden hounds of my desires follow the outworn scents. i see the packs of my dreams threading the warm forests, and the yellow arrows of regret seeking the white deer of lies. ah, God! my breathless longings, the warm longings of my eyes, have clouded with breaths too blue the moon which fills my soul.