If Your Eyes Were Not The Colour Of The Moon

If Your Eyes Were Not The Colour Of The Moon

If your eyes were not the colour of the moon,
Of a day full of clay, and work, and fire,
If even held in you did not move in agile grace like the air,
If you were not an amber week,

Not the yellow moment
When autumn climbs up through the vines;
If you were not that bread the fragrant moon
Kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky

Oh, my dearest, I would not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is,
Sand, time, the tree of the rain,

Everything is alive so that I can be alive:
Without moving I can see it all:
In your life I see everything that lives.

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