Night

The night is still and the stars keep vigil
And the full moon, in the beauty of its splendor, is all clearness
And so too the brooks — nothing has troubled their calm
And on the lofty trees a nightingale has sung
And there, yonder, a rose, and then the dew
The darkness sent a breeze that bore to us
Of a tyrant's wrong, or a beloved's coldness
Oh, the beauty of a subtle utterance that startled me
A melody like a kindled light, stealing in
A beautiful night — I never felt its length

And the universe is calm, and the sleepers drift past
In my hands a radiance of silver that dazzles
Save a croaking that wanders bewildered in the gloom
The melody of passion, from which the feelings grow drunk
Its eyelids, and it veils itself in shyness
The moans of one complaining, uttered through the violin
Or a melody of love that bewilders the heart
As though in my heart tempests were roaring
Or a rill running, and a phantom flitting past
A hope that appeared, then turned away, mocking