The vision

Where are you, vision, that stood before me

as I dreamed in the garden,

and about me wound the hair of rosemary,

that sprouted near my bed?

Where are you, vision, that stood before me,

gazed into my soul,

and pressed a warm maiden's hand

to my cheek?

Now I search for you, my doom fulfilled,

right by the town linden tree,

right in the city, beloved vision,

and I can find you nowhere.

Into every window I peer

if even just a veil is blowing;

but my beloved one

I have been unable to find.

Come, sweet vision of night,

come with your angel's face -

and in the same light garb of the shepherd

in which you appeared before!

Bring to me with your swan-white hand

that stole my heart -

bring that purple-red bosom-band,

that little bouquet of violets.

Your large blue eyes,

from which an angel gazes out;

your brow that was so kindly,

and nodded good evening;

Your mouth, that paradise of love,

your little dimpled cheeks

that threw open the gates to heaven -

bring all of it with you, my love!