As soon as I need Him, he is there, these days. It may not always be. In my despondence over what I was reading, making me desperately sad, I thought, maybe it is not a translation but an interpretation. Yes, I had forgotten that John of the Cross wrote poetry that he sometimes put to song. The book is about a work of art. The Dark Night of the Soul is a poem. Art is subjective. Art is open to interpretation. I am still safe in my cocoon.