| O Weaver of Excuses, what to thee |
|
|
| If you should meet the Loved One as you stray |
|
|
| The High ambition of the drop of rain |
|
|
| How long will she thus stand unveiled before me |
|
|
| Wherever the Beloved looks she stirs |
|
|
| I, like a wandering bubble |
|
|
| Where has my childhood gone, where are its placid years? |
|
|
| The Fire of love I for my idol know |
|
|
| O ask not frigid Piety to dwell |
|
|
| I care not if no rest nor peace remain |
|
|