Where ivy clings, your beauty stays,
A silver thread the twilight plays.
Your eyes, two mirrors calm and clear,
Hold every star that gathers near.

You linger where the moonlight falls,
Its silver hand adorns the walls.
Your glance, a spark the dark obeys,
To weave the night in tender ways.

The roses stir when you are near,
Their trembling blooms confess their fear.
One fleeting breath, the dusk grows kind,
And leaves its echo in the mind.