Just like the constellations,

                The faultlessly imprinted mountains.

Just like the roots to springing trees,

                the rushing streams.

You stole my attention,  like passing

a mirror,

without looking at your reflection: impossible,

you are.

You were wild; and held the fickleness of fortune’s smile

But to whom do I apologize? No one

                                                           is as cruel

                                                          as I’ve been to me.