We had nights of green stars. The wind was warm, when I asked you:

“What have we found?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I wonder.”

“Maybe it’s happiness,” you smiled.

And I laughed, because it was true. The next night the stars were golden, when I said:

“Is our happiness forever?”

But you were quiet.

“I think you know.”

“I wonder.”

“No happiness is forever,” you said.

“Then what are we doing,” I said abruptly, “if all this will end?” The next night the stars were shrouded and the room was completely dark, when you said:

“It isn’t happiness we seek.”

Your words waited.

“It’s union.”