Francesca- by Ezra Pound.

You came in out of the night
And there were flowers in your hand, 
Now you will come out of a confusion of people, 
Out of a turmoil of speech about you. 

I who have seen you amid the primal things 
Was angry when they spoke your name
IN ordinary places.
 I would that the cool waves might flow over my mind, 
And that the world should dry as a dead leaf, 
Or as a dandelion see-pod and be swept away, 
So that I might find you again, 
Alone.