Apart -- but one remembers the other Between us flies the white dove of sorrow Continually carrying news. -- I know when you´re in the garden, I know when you weep, shut in your quiet room.
I know at what hour the wave of hurt returns, I know what kind of conversations of people draw a tear. You are as visible to me as a star glistening afar Pouring out rose-colored tears, and flashing with a livid spark.
Although my eyes cannot now see you, Knowing your house -- and the trees of the garden, and the flowers, My mind´s eye knows where to paint your eyes and figure, Between which trees to look for your white cloak.
But in vain shall you create landscapes Silvering them with the moon -- beaming them with daylight. You do not know that you must knock down the sky and put it Under the windows, and call the seas the heavens.
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Then you must divide the sea and the sky in half, In the daytime with a veil of bright mountains, at night with cliffs of sapphire; You know not how with hear of rain you must crown the head of the cliffs, How to see them in the moon marked off with a pall.
You know not above which mountain will rise the pearl Which I have chosen for you as a guardian star. You know not that somewhere far away--even as far as the feet of the mountains, Beyond the sea -- I spied two lights from the window.
I´ve grown accustomed to them -- I love those sea stars, Dark expanses with fog, bloodier than the stars of heaven. Today I see them, I saw them shining yesterday, They always shine for me -- sadly and palely -- but always...
And you -- eternally shone on the poor wanderer; But though we never, nowhere shall be united, Let´s hush a while, and then call each other again Like two nightingales who are allured by weeping.
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