Page:Nalkowska - Kobiety (Women).djvu/325

I have this night guessed the stars' Runic riddle: …
There, on the verdant banks of Life,—alas!
Some one hath rent in twain the shroud sepulchral. …
Under that shroud sepulchral Sleep lies dead.

Why should I yearn impatient for the morning,
Since it is writ that I expire at dawn?
Oh,—for my heart distraught still loves Life madly,—
I will my true love call to me to-day!

"Come to me, dear one! greet me, but in silence,
Lest thou shouldst wake sad Memory's sleeping ghosts;
Quietly let them down, the ice-cold curtains:
Quietly draw the silken veils aside.

"Come to my tent, though dark it is around us:
Fear not; the stars are twinkling soft above;
(Fain would my wings of silver soar to join them!):
Cover thine eyes, love, from the dread black night!

"Wilt thou two clusters—grapes with warm blood swelling?
Lay twixt my breasts, O lay thy golden head!
Me let thine arms, mighty with youth's keen transport,
Clasp in embraces like the serpent's coil.

"Here is no skiey vault unfathomable;
Here are no stars that gleam athwart the blue.—
They are a silken tent, my silky tresses;
Stars, too, shine bright:—naught but mine eyes are they!