Dreaming through the twilight

Broad meadows in the grey twilight;

the sun's light has died away and the stars are moving.

Now I go to the loveliest of women,

across the meadow in the grey twilight,

deep into bushes of jasmine.

Through the grey twilight to the land of love;

I do not walk quickly, I do not hurry.

I am drawn by a faint, velvet thread

through the grey twilight to the land of love,

into a blue, mild light.