My stomach knots when the phone rings
  morning and evening, when you sometimes call.
A beautiful, braided knot...
  You braided my hair once,
the night we admired distant, white stars,
  before you left.

Sometimes, I sense it during the day,
  like aching hunger without being hungry,
or anxiousness... nervousness too...
  as if something is missing - a part of myself.

Can it be that you are a part of myself?
  A part of myself far away, far away,
traveling by bus nestled roads to Delphi,
  a part of myself far away, so far away,
gazing up at night at the Acropolis in lights...
  that this beautifully braided knot hurts.

Where is my scarce, pragmatic self?
  I must find her, because soon,
soon... heaven be with me,
  I'll cry.