Running from your hair, emitting from your eyes;
clear streams of water does appear –
spouting from your curls, and lighting up your eyes
with their translucent light gives you a share
of beauty unknown previously to me –
engulfing now your body everywhere
the streams of water flow, uniting you
with the stream in which your feet appears
disfigured seemingly by water, greenish-blue;
and throwing back your head you laugh in cheer
as if you know not, never knew, of any care;
the silver curves of you, enriched by water
appear in snakelike movements, as another
being than I normally consider you;
the streams of water have transfigured you
into a nymph, a Naiad, and it seems
as if, in this form, you should appear in dreams
and not in my trivial reality, but this you do!
And had I known this waterfall was all
that it would take to see this side of you
I would have brought you here before,
and never would have left for want of you;
of seeing you as I now see you through
this stream of water under which you writhe
your body in exquisite, liquid curls
of such a shape that I could not have dreamt
up something half as beautiful as this.
It’s such a moment as this one
when beauty seems to have become
the raison d’etre for my life; and you
no more than sunlight, clouds or morning dew.