XLV
The day and night went each their way-
The day, as Judas, traitor,
The night, so fair, so beautiful,
That none can ever hate her.
The little stars shine in the sky,
The moon comes with her pallor,
And in the forest chats the dove,
The fair and tender caller.
The heart confesses to the heart
With thoughts in distance sailing,
And longing lips thirst for a kiss,
From burning passion thrilling.