Bound for your distant home
you were leaving alien lands.
In an hour as sad as I’ve known
I wept over your hands.
Don’t ask me why, alone in dismal thought,
In times of mirth, I’m often filled with strife,
And why my weary stare is so distraught,
A lot of us were on the bark:
Some framed a sail for windy weather,
The others strongly and together
Moved oars. In silence sunk,
What means my name to you?...T'will die
As does the melancholy murmur
Of distant waves or, of a summer,
The forest's hushed nocturnal sigh.
Not long ago, in a charming dream,
I saw myself - a king with crown's treasure;
I was in love with you, it seemed,
And heart was beating with a pleasure.
I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation;
And I am silent; my murmur is dead,
My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade,
Hides in its depths the bitter exultation.
I loved thee; and perchance until this moment
Within my breast is smouldering still the fire!
Yet I would spare thy pain the least renewal,
Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
My voice, to which love lends a tenderness and yearing,
Disturbs night's dreamy calm ... Pale at my bedside burning,