Abelone's Song
I do not tell thee of the nights I spend
In tears for thee, by sleep unblest,
For thee, in whose fair presence blend
Sweet weariness and cradled rest.
Thou does not breathe to me the thoughts that send
Slumber from thine eyes:
How should we then endure
The splendour and the torture
Of our burning sighs
If we refrained?
Ah! think how soon the lips that yield
Love’s sworn confession, first unsealed,
With lies are stained!
I am alone, but thou art here, in the multitude
Of murmurs, and in fragrant airs, to share my solitude.
In all thou hast a part.
Alas! they vanished all, that ever lay in my embrace:
Thee have I never held, so thou dost stay, with reborn grace,
For ever in my heart.
by:
Rainer Maria Rilke
"The Notebook Of Malte Laurids Brigge"
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