Going home in the early hours

In the early morn',

about two or three,

I stepped out of the door

in the morning stillness.

Quietly, the way lies,

and the trees are silent,

and the song-bird sleeps

still in the branches.

Do I hear behind me

a window softly closing?

Will my overflowing heart

breach its bounds?

How is't I see only

pale and blue colors?

Heaven's reds and greens

together with the others are dead.

Her blue eyes

kiss the little clouds above,

and her blond hair

covers the whole earth.

What the night gave to me,

will stay long in memory,

my arms reach wide

to hold the joys of life.

A Thrush rouses

suddenly in his tree,

and the day awakens

quietly from dreams of love.