In waiting for the loved so far away 

We cry to the night (how long are nights in May!) 

We cry to night, for the pleasures that she brings. 

Pleasures are twilight, fleeting and grey - 

oy Deus, oy Deus, de l'alba tan t'ost ve! - 

We dwell in night. Life's many springs 

give life a life by meanings of things. 

In meanings, in dreamings, breathe mortal clay: 

in the valleys of blind men, are one-eyed kings... 

We dwell in night and dream of day. 

The body's a prison; our souls fly away 

to the arms of their marble god of desire. 

But hell sends wind to her souls led astray. 

And fear no pain and fear no fire: 

If love is flame, we build our pyre 

though our cinders cry; our ash is grey. 

We dream of dawn and to what we aspire, 

And we dream of heaven's circling gyres 

living sweet hell; caught in loves wings, 

The day interrupts, demanding its way - 

Can one consent to the pain dawn brings? 

 All dreams must end, all nights go grey.