I am uneasy at heart when I have to leave my accustomed shelter; I forget that there abides the old in the new, and that there also thou abidest.
Through birth and death, in this world or in others, wherever thou leadest me it is thou, the same, the one companion of my endless life who ever linkest my heart with bonds of joy to the unfamiliar.
When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is shut. Oh, grant me my prayer that I may never lose the bliss of the touch of the one in the play of many.
On the slope of the desolate river among tall grasses I asked her,“Maiden, where do you go shading your lamp with your mantle? My house is all dark and lonesome-lend me your light!”she raised her dark eyes for a moment and looked at my face through the dusk. “I have come to the river,”she said, “to float my lamp on the stream when the daylight wanes in the west.”I stood alone among tall grasses and watched the timid flame of her lamp uselessly drifting in the tide.
In the silence of gathering night I asked her, “Maiden, your lights are all lit-then where do you go with your lamp? My house is all dark and lonesome-lend me your light.” She raised her dark eyes on my face and stood for a moment doubtful. “I have come,” she said at last,“to dedicate my lamp to the sky.”I stood and watched her light uselessly burning in the void.
In the moonless gloom of midnight I ask her, “Maiden, what is your quest, holding the lamp near your heart? My house is all dark and lonesome-lend me your light.”She stopped for a minute and thought and gazed at my face in the dark.“I have brought my light,”she said, “to join the carnival of lamps.”I stood and watched her little lamp uselessly lost among lights.
What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God, from this overflowing cup of my life?
My poet, is it thy delight to see thy creation through my eyes and to stand at the portals of my ears silently to listen to thine own eternal harmony?
Thy world is weaving words in my mind and thy joy is adding music to them. Thou givest thyself to me in love and then feelest thine own entire sweetness in me.
She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses; she who never opened her veils in the morning light, will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song.