I intended to seek a culture that would make that moon-faced one turn towards me.
I said I have a thought in mind, come forward so I can tell it to your ear.
I dreamed last night, my dear, and I want you to interpret it for me.
I have no confidant for this dream but you, listen, O king of my starry face.
He nodded his head and laughed, a head that knows me inside out.
Meaning you are plotting tricks with me, while I am a mirror of every color and scent.
I am like a puppet in his hand, the design of his golden needlework.
That design is not lifeless, the least of its designs is my cries and shouts.