The Hum of a Brush

I love you with the imagination of a creative artist
who gives body to what he feels
and loves what he gives body to —
for no reason, except that it echoes in the depths of his soul!

I love you with the eyes of the appreciative onlooker
who feels but cannot express it well,
yet who can still say "I love" —
what fault is it of his, when the harmonious intervals
clamor with happiness in the depths of his soul!

And I am the most ignorant of the ignorant:
what have I to do with the rules of the arts,
so long as the hum of the creative brush
has fashioned out of this shade and light a feeling
whose echoes resound in the bottom of my soul!

Just as you are, I love you when you pass by —
no matter what beauty you represent,
no matter what woman you may be,
so long as you answer, like the hum of a brush, in the bottom of my soul.