Last night, Love, when sleep forsook me,
Softly then, I heard you call.
Spoken as a gentle murmur,
Still it echoes through the hall.
My role played is not Narcissus;
Take not Echo’s wood nymph role.
You’ll not fade nor pine without me,
For you have me, heart and soul.
Soon, my steps turn back to join you,
Banish pain and vanquish strife.
Naught will ever our love sever;
Constant love will be our life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem