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She Who Scatters Stars

Рассыпающая звезды

You’re not always proud, aloof;
you don’t always refuse me.

You come to me, sometimes,
quietly, quietly, quietly, like in a dream.

The hair above your forehead is heavy, full.
I’m never allowed to kiss it.

And your wide eyes
are lit by a magic moon.

My gentle friend, my merciless enemy,
your every step carries such blessing

That you might be walking along my heart,
scattering stars and flowers.

Where can you have found them?
Why do you glow so bright,

And having had you, for even a while,
why has earth so little left to love?

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