The speaker describes creating a private language for someone she loves, drawing on beautiful sounds from other tongues: vine-like letters, stately Latin phrases, Spanish words for slow, sorrowful goodbyes, and French names that flit among the sentences. She says this language was written on her soul, not just learned, so it feels intimate and almost sacred. The mood is tender and reverent, as if she is gathering the loveliest words she knows as an offering.
Then the ending quietly undercuts all that preparation. When she finally goes to her beloved, her heart singing and her voice ready, she does not speak at all. The silence suggests that love can be too deep for even the most beautiful words, or that her presence matters more than any speech. It leaves a hushed, wistful feeling.