Everlastingly submersing
In your eyes, blue as an ocean,
In your eyes your soul I see now,
As it beckons me and calls me,
All the earthly bliss I see there,
And I swoon with joy's abundance.
Burning, longing lips repeating:
'Roderigo, Roderigo.'"
For a long while, all was quiet.
Fires dying 'tween the ruins,
Cymbal's final note has sounded.
—In the mountains sleeps its echo.
But with greater, keener brightness
Shines the Evening Star in heaven,
And with melody much sweeter
Shakes the leaf and tremble billows,
Nightingale's throat faintly trembles,
Tremble lovers' lips with kisses.
Midnight onward floats in silence,
Sleeps the grove, the hills are dormant,
Rests the brook, each bird is dreaming.
Quiet, quiet. . . . Like an echo
Floats love's breath into the distance.
"Do you love me, Roderigo?"
"Yes, I love you, Satanella."
"Love for ever?"
"Ever! . . . ever! . . ."
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