DO NOT CALL him to thy house, the dreamer, who walks alone by thy path in the night. His words are those of a strange land, and strange is the melody played by him on his one-stringed lute. There is no need for thee to spread a seat for him; he will depart before day-break. For in the feast of freedom he is asked to sing the praise of the new-born light.
THE NIGHT was dark when she went away, and they slept. The night is dark now, and I call for her, 'Come back, my darling; the world is asleep; and no one would know, if you came for a moment while stars are gazing at stars.' She went away when the trees were in bud and the spring was young. Now the flowers are in high bloom and I call, 'Come back, my darling. The children gather and scatter flowers in reckless sport. And if you come and take one little blossom no one will miss it.' Those that used to play are playing still, so spendthrift is life. I listen to their chatter and call, 'Come back, my darling, for mother's heart is full to the brim with love, and if you come to snatch only one little kiss from her no one will grudge it'
