You and Your Beautiful Eyes

Hands empty, I come;
how could I be welcome?
I have nothing to give,
nothing to merit acceptance.
My hands are empty!

Naked, I come;
how could the door be opened?
I am indecent,
unfit for the this place.
I am naked, unclothed!

Look at the others,
with their gifts,
their beautiful clothes!
Look what they have to give.

Look at me—or rather don’t—
empty-handed and naked
I should be scorned and cast out.
Shield your eyes! I am not fit!

But why does the door open?
Why do your eyes pierce me so?
Do you not see the others?
They are richly clothed, bringing lavish gifts.
Do you look at me to single me out,
to make an example of me?

No. Your eyes have nothing but kindness.
I stand naked and empty-handed;
suddenly, yet sweetly
You clothe me; shame is gone.
You grasp my hands,
no longer empty.
The rest of them disappear.
I see only You,
You and your beautiful eyes.

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