It is as if the time were come to wind up my work, and I feel in
the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.


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 my door.

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.


The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs; and
the flowers were all merry by the roadside; and the wealth of
gold was scattered through the rift of the clouds while we busily
went on our way and paid no heed.