Your house is full of wind, my Lord.
My heart is full of wind.
Windows and doors are
opened wide, and from within
a touching but incomprehensible
melody wells forth.
The wind blows in and out
in and out
in and out –
the wind's irrhythmic rhythm
swirls strains together.
I cannot tell the wind
from the singing.
Ah! Dear hiding heart,
what terror! What careful,
careful pain to have
thy tender secrets heard and known
heard and known
heard and known
by wind.