the world is lyrical because a miracle has brought my lover to me though she's some other place her face i see at night, i creep in bed and never sleep in bed but look above, in the air and, to my greatest joy, my love is there
she dances overhead on the ceiling, near my bed in my sight all through the night i try to hide, in vain underneath my counterpane but there's my love up there, above
i whisper, "go away, my lover, it's not fair." but i'm so grateful to discover that she's still there
i love my ceiling more since it is a dancing floor just for my love