68 (you have drunk the)
YOU HAVE drunk the draught of songs
that I poured for you,
and accepted the garland of my woven dreams.
My heart straying in the wilderness
was ever touched by the pain that was your own touch.
When my days are done, my leave-taking hushed
in a final silence,
my voice will linger in the autumn light
and rain-laden clouds
with the message that we had met.