Classic Poem

Verstummt sind Pauken, Posaunen und Zinken

The trumpets and drums are no longer sounded,
Hushed is the dulcimer and flute.
King Solomon sleeps, and the night is mute.
He sleeps — by twelve thousand angels surrounded.

They guard his dreams from clamor and cumber.
And should he even knit his brow
Twelve thousand arms would be lifted now,
Twelve thousand swords would flash through his slumber.

But gently now the swords are lying
Within each scabbard. The night-winds soothe
The dreamer's dreams and his brow is smooth;
Only his lips are restless, sighing:

" Oh Shulamite! all people cherish
My favor and bring me tributes and sing;
I am both Judah's and Israel's king —
But, lest you love me, I wither and perish. "