You whom I do not tell that at night
I lie and weep,
whose nature leaves me ready to sleep
as a cradle might ---
you who say nought when when you lie awake
for my sake,
how would it be if we bore
this glory and more
in our heart ?
You render me lonely.
I find you in other things.
For a while it is you,
and then it is the wings
of the breeze,
or a fragrance that comes
to me.
In their arms I lost them,
body and soul,
but you,
you only,
are born ever anew:
because I never held you,
now I hold you.
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