Conception

You, soft night, O come and embrace me.

You round out my yearning and mature the wine.

A blissful, mute awe for the Redeemer

swells my soul, pure and ready for conception.

And as I open my arms with longing,

there fights free from heaven's fruit

a bright seed, and it falls from God's firmament

into the womb of my soul, so devout and full of awe.