To isabel*

O love mine,
Isabel Divine,
Whence you come to me,
Crossing perhaps seven seas,
Continents apart,
As we are still making a living,

From far thus away,
If Thou come,
And like a painted damsel,
If you under the day's sun
So stretch legs Thine,
As if taking a rest,

As if waking up, 

From a slumber deep,

Tell me,
How Canst i not sing for you,
Damsel mine,
My life, sole cue,

Finding you, thus,
In our garden as if ,
I,how , only in indolence
small fragments of Time pass,

Knowing you are,
My only Refuge
My only tears,
My only Recluse,

My only excuse
For living this useless,
So useless, life.

(*Note: the painting attached is gifted to me by a childhood friend mine)

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