exiled poet Is this good night yours? Is this tender night of newlyweds' enduring yours? No, tonight there is no moon, nor flowers, nor swans, My fingers smell of rain and grass, But is even a rainy night like this totally yours? Yes, it's all mine. But don't think my love is covered with plaque, I take nourishment from the air, calcium from the sun, My mustache is like arrow hair, But my love is as shy as the night. Ah, your friend who talks to me from night Please hand me your bare hands with ten slender fingers.