From the beach

I call from the shore

To my lost happiness;

Only the sound of the oars

Echoes back to the beach.

From the beach, dear mother,

Where the pounding waves go,

There sail the ships:

My beloved is on one of them.

The more I call,

The faster they run.

If a wind carries them off,

Who could protect them?

The breath of my lament

Only swells the sails,

The more my yearning

Would hold them back!

If I held back my laments,

My sorrow would release them,

So between lamenting and keeping silent

My heart is torn.

I call from the shore

To my lost happiness;

Only the sound of the oars

Echoes back to the beach.

Such volatile castles:

Who could trust them,

And build Love, a lasting one,

Upon them with joy?

Like birds in flight,

Where do they rest?

Such hurried wanderers,

They find no home,

Troubling the waves

Of green crystal;

And what they disturb

Is transformed entirely.

The waves move on,

And the wind blows on;

Only the agony in my heart

Remains unchanging.

I call from the shore

To my lost happiness;

Only the sound of the oars

Echoes back to the beach.