Entreaty

O if it is true, that in the night,

while all who live there are resting,

and when the moonbeams gently

down here on gravestones float,

O if it is true, that then

the quiet graves open,

I call, I wait for Leila's sake.

To me, my love, come here, come here!

Appear, beloved shade, just

As you appeared before the separation,

As cold as a winter's day, as pale,

Distorted from the last pains of death.

Float closer as a distant star,

As a gentle sound, as a light breath,

As a sight horrible to see.

It is all the same to me: come here, come here!

I call you, not in order, no,

to charge someone with a crime,

that took away my angel,

nor to ascertain the mystery of death literally "grave-riddle".

Nor in order to, because now and then

Doubt torments me, I want only painfully

to say to you, that I love you truly,

That I am ever yours, come here, come here!