My darling, now you're rising, out of the waves of time
With long and golden tresses, with marble arms sublime
Your face is so transparent, as pale as wax or snow
And weakened by the shadow of paintful, grievous woe!
So gently, sweetly smiling - a balm for eyes you are:
Amidst the stars a woman, 'mong women quite a star.
And turning your face gently towards your fine-shaped shoulder
I lose myself in joy's eyes - and yet in tears I smoulder.

Is there a chance to wrest you out of your misty ocean?
To lift you to my bosom, dear angel of devotion,
And then my tearful visage to bend upon your own,
Then try with burning kisses your loving breath to drown,
Your hand, so often chilly, to warm against my chest,
To hold it close, nay, closer, upon my heart tight pressed.

Alas, you are not real, if you can pass like this
And lose your very shadow in some cold, dark abyss,
To leave myself downhearted, once more bereft and lonely,
To live the dream of rapture in sad remembrance only...
To reach your gentle shadow I stretch my arms in vain:
Out of the waves of time, now, I can't raise you again.


Translated by Andrei Bantas