Star of mourning upon me it beams;
passing fair, hair now to shimmer
Bosom upon,
near tender thus sweet
dearest my brightest
joy mine you delight us
still above us too love me
Highest above coming down
enthroned within
do you hear me.
Strike deep this heart
thine eyes like mine
your hand brought me up
laid bare,
in sleep rests upon me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem