Hoping and despairing again

Hoping and despairing again,

listening impatiently at her balcony,

in case the wind carries

to me the sound of her voice -

thus for a month already

the days have passed for me.

Late, when mutely and more mutely

night rests in this bleak area,

into a brief slumber droop

my exhausted eyelids;

they open again from dreams of her

and I go onward with new anguish.

But, O Heaven, I pray:

do not rob me of my dearest possession,

this happy woe

which I have nourished with the blood of my heart;

high and higher let the flames blaze,

so that I may die blissfully in them.