The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear
lest in the morning he suddenly come to my door when I have
fallen asleep wearied out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him |
forbid him not.
If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse
me, I pray. I wish not to be called from my sleep by the clamorous
choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of morning
light. Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of a sudden to
Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to
vanish. Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to the
light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream emerging
from darkness of sleep.
Let him appear before my sight as
the first of all lights and all
forms. The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come from
his glance. And let my return to myself be immediate return to him.