The day grows cool

The day grows cool, the day grows pale,

the birds are brushing over the grass.

Observe how the blades tremble

from the sweep of their wings

and gently wave without stopping.

And late in the evening, love wafts

over the rosebed of my heart.

Its branches whisper and quiver

and lovely thoughts weave themselves

into my secret night-prayers.

You distant heart, come soon to me

or else we will both grow grey and old,

or else in my heart there will grow

many weeds, thorns and sorrows.

The night grows long, the night grows cold!