|Solitude, night—what pang is here?|
Are not stars your comrades? Clear
|Majesty of those silent skies,|
Drowsed earth, deep silence of the worlds,
|That moon, that wilderness and hill—|
White rose-beds all creation fill.
|Sweet are the teardrops that have pearled|
Like gleaming gems, like stars, your eyes;
|But what thing do you crave? All Nature,|
Oh my heart, is your fellow-creature.
Translated by: V.G. Kiernan