Motionless, tepid air

Motionless, tepid air,

Nature, deeply at rest;

Through the still garden-night

Only the fountain splashes.

But in my heart there surges

Hot desires,

And in my veins swells

Life, and a longing for life.

Should not also your breast

Be lifted by longing wishes?

Should not the cry of my soul

Reverberate deeply in yours?

Softly, with ethereal steps,

Do not tarry to float to me!

Come, oh come, so that we might

Give each other heavenly satisfaction!