II

The moon’s high in the sky and it’s spring.

I think of you and I’m whole inside.

A light breeze runs to me through empty fields.

I think of you, I murmur your name, I’m not me: I’m happy.

Tomorrow you’ll come and go with me to pick flowers in the field

And I’ll go with you through the fields to see you picking flowers.

I already see you tomorrow picking flowers with me in the fields,

But when you come tomorrow and go with me for real to pick flowers,

It’ll be a real joy and a really new thing for me.