O the night’s so white in moonlight, all seems sleeping under snow.
Shall we linger, time beguiling, in the bower’s fragrant shade?
Cupid, prankish page, the candle hides away, my tender maid!“
Rustling silk is heard above him, on the balustrade inclining,
Childlike laughs a face so happy, as an angel she is shining;
From the balcony she throws him down a rose, she seems but scolding
While she whispers to him fondly, round her lips her white hands holding;
She again now disappearing, quick steps come downstairs in haste…
Running with their arms outstretchèd fondly they are now enlaced…
Arm in arm they go, so meetly to each other they belong,
She so beautiful and slender, he so handsome, tall and strong.
From the shady shore advances slowly moved by oars a barge,
From the mast its sails are drooping, and the wind abaft at large,
And they fly on dream wings happy, far from envy, far from harm,
Rocked in soul with so much beauty, spellbound, rapt by nature’s charm.
Now the moon, the moon ascendeth in her splendour, full and bright,
And from shore to shore on waters builds a path of glowing light,
That in thousandfold quick ripples mirrors gleaming every beam
Sent by heaven’s fairest maiden, of eternal mist the dream;
And the more her sweet light shining clearer, brighter still doth glow,
So the waves, the shores are greater, and the forest seems to grow,
While the ocean swaying moon disk nearer seems, on shady bowers
From the mighty lime-trees shaken, their fair blossoms fall in showers,
Or by wind o’er waters driven fly to match her golden hair.
Throwing back her head, enraptured, in her arms she clasps him there:
„O thy words are sweetly thrilling, speak no more, O thou amazest
Thy poor slave whom now so highly in thy lofty thought thou raisest:
This love pain that thy soul feeleth this is all my life’s desire,
My poor heart is aching, kindled by thy voice’s gentle fire.
O this seems an old love story! All thy dreams, thy eyes’ sweet night,
O they burn my soul to ashes, and they fill me with delight.
These deep eyes, though they may blind me, give them me, my heaven’s gates!
Listen how the waves are talking with the stars that know the fates!
Those dark forests speak now dreaming; listen, every wand’ring spring
