Yearning

The stars were shining with golden light

as I stood alone by the window

and listened to the distant sound

of the posthorn in the still countryside.

My heart became inflamed in my body,

and I thought secretly to myself:

Ah, if only I could journey with them

into that magnificent summer night!

Two young men were walking

past on the slope of the mountain,

and I heard them singing as they walked along

in the quiet area:

of vertiginous, rocky gullies

where the woods rustle so gently;

of springs that rush out from the clefts

into the night of the woods.

They sang of marble statues,

of gardens that grew wild upon stones

in dusky groves;

of palaces in the moonlight

where maidens listen by the windows

when the strum of lutes awakens them;

and of fountains murmuring sleepily

in the magnificent summer night.