Souls of song

In the night that covers the trees with blossoms,

I was frightened by sweet ghosts:

a row of them danced about the garden,

into which I was creeping with light feet.

Like a delicate elven choir in a ring,

a white, living shimmer passed by.

The phantoms I boldly asked:

"Who are you, airy creatures? Tell me!"

"I am a cloud, reflected in the lake."

"I am a row of footsteps in the snow."

"I am a sigh lifted to heaven!"

"I am a secret, whispered in the ear!"

"I am a pious, deceased child."

"I am a lush wreath of flowers."

"And that which you choose, and to which the Hours

show their goodwill, will become a new song."