She

She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, in the twilight of gleams and glimpses; she who never opened her veils in the morning light, will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song.
Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams, she resigned yet dwelled alone and apart.
Many a man knocked at my door and asked for her and turned away in despair.
There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, and she remained in her loneliness waiting for the recognition.