If she were far..

If she were far,
she would be a fragrance.

If she were far,
there would be long-distance call, or a letter,
or sometimes the excuse of holiday greetings,
to know how she is doing.

If she were far, she would be a dream,
   or walking thought,
   or an image which dances before the eyes
   and glitters like words through the night,
   as one turns  the pages of books.

An image for whose sake
   a life-long search through caves and rocks,
   a life-long swirl on waters and sands,
   living with a flute and acacia brambles,
   keeping guard on ramparts all night--
all would be desirable.

If she were far,  for her sake
   a voyage that lasted ten years,
   every murder committed
would be just.

Sometimes a fragrance, sometimes a dream,
or a couplet, a book of lyrics or a fable.
But she is not far,
is neither a dream nor a fragrance.
Just a little warmth  of the body,
in bed, at night.