The wreaths

Here above the entrance be fastened,

You wreaths, so moistened and bedewed

By the painful outpouring of my eyes!

For the eyes of love tend to weep abundantly.

This tender moisture - I beg you

Not to shake it off too soon.

Cherish it until you hear that she

Is approaching the threshhold with her graceful step,

My dear one who is so unkind to me.

Then let it all at once be poured down

Onto the golden splendor of her head.

And she will realize that they are tears;

That they are the tears that my eyes

Have shed in this grief-filled night.