O, to be a moon dust for your feet,
A wind in your ribbon, a milk in your cup,
A cigarette in your lips, a path in the midst of flowers,
A bench for your peace and a book for your soul.
To bind you by thread, embrace as distant stars,
To be a good season for your precious eyes,
And a fire to warm your hands and a veil
Against a rain.
[© for English translation, M. Gałczyński]