The absent one

Silence of the night, whose voice alone is sweet,

when I no longer hear her voice,

Mysterious rays, gliding over the moss

in the shadow of the woods,

tell me if her eyes, when all else sleeps,

open softly

and if my beloved, while I watch,

remembers the absent one.

When the moon is in the heavens, bathing with her light

the woods and the blue,

when the evening bells' call to prayer

vibrates the pure echo,

tell me if her soul, withdrawn a moment,

rises up with their song,

and whether their chords of peaceful harmony

remind her of the absent one!