Faint glimmers of light seeping in the room,

I'm afraid to move, for now this sweet feeling abides me

spellbound, drew slow breaths and laugh at the cold night

a tender, dreamy, soft gleam floats in my mind

it's floating, never floating away.

the gushing wind is flapping the window framed,

I sit up to look over the mysterious and dim lighted panes.

It's a storm, at least I thought —raging violently even the thunder can't be heard.

Blurred, long, as if it's branching

gleams of lightning flashed across the blazing sky,

not-so much flashings, as much quivering and twitching

like the wing of a dying bird.

the lightning never seems to cease,

neither the fireplace of my heart,

tis' called a peasant of sparrow-night.

yellowish facades of distant buildings, seem to quiver too at each faint flash.

I gaze, and gaze upon the dumb sandy plains

couldn't turn away my eyes,

How can I? These silent lightning flashes,

gleams, seeming in response —

the secret silent fires of my heart,

aglow within me.

As the sun comes nearer, the sky is flushed in patches of crimson.

The lighting ceases, quivering gleams

getting fewer, drowning in the sobering positive light

my lightning stops too, a weariness and peace

washed me over. Oh! The image, floating in my heart

seems more tranquil, like a swan rising out of the reeds of a bog.

Oh! Sweet emotions, gentle harmony
Melting bliss of the first raptures of love,
Where are they?
Where can I die peacefully?

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