Part 2

There were two thoughts, two thoughts of God, Two stars beside each other, And from all of the heavens’ stars They most loved one another.

Once one of them fell to the earth-- The other pined in sorrow, And God, touched by her grief and love, Sent her down on the morrow.

They sought each other many nights As lonely souls their Eden, Until one day they chanced to meet As a young man and maiden.

Their eyes met, and they recognized Each other, tender-hearted, And lived together in great bliss Till one of them departed.

And when she died, she always called And languished for the other, Till God summoned the other one, And they’re again together.

XLII

That young little singer there-- Why did she cease her narration? Her eyes quickly filled with tears As though grieved in separation.

Some one may think to himself, God, how can her young soul darken? Her face young and beautiful, And her song so sweet to hearken.

Ah, a beautiful young face May not do in solace bringing; And though sweet the song may be-- You don’t always feel like singing.

XLIII

As in the sky rises the moon-- So into hearts love enters; And secret pain and silent grief Around it often centers.

And visions man had not thought of He may see, dimly lighted, And secret pain and silent grief May be in song united.

But gales and tempests violent In many hearts are waking, And ere in song they utter them-- How many hearts are breaking!

XLIV

Ye all who deem yourselves oppressed, Come near, come nearer to me: Lay off your sorrows’ burdens here And light up your minds gloomy.

I’ve reared here a vast realm of love Where mate seeks his mate pretty, And what one harbors in his heart Resounds in love’s sweet ditty.

No rival here, no hater’s known, Here speech is love song, wooing; Here lions turn to calm, meek lambs And hawks to doves, sweet, cooing.

Here are all ailments’ remedies; Here hearts are ever youthful; Here never fades the blooming rose, And friendship’s ever truthful.

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.

XLVI

Thou hast laid Thy hand on my head, My temples proud caressing; Thy lips have whispered their sweet words In prayer and in blessing.

Thou hast revealed Thy soul to me In Thy love’s fragrant blossom, And what I had not dared to dream-- Thou took’st me to Thy bosom.

With blessing Thou hast graced my harp, My heart and my lips’ diction; To pious battles Thou hast sent My songs with benediction.

My forehead is from sadness freed, Fears are a thing I scoff at, My soul is filled with dawning light-- And I am love’s great prophet.

XLVII

Of my songs I shall build Thy throne In style of bards of greatest fame. Thy sceptre shall be my own heart, My fame shall be Thy diadem.

Love I shall declare to be law, I shall sing daily Thine esteem; In Thy soul I’ll pour love’s delight And sweetest longing in Thy dream.

I shall bid birds to sing to Thee, May’s flowers shall fall to Thy feet; I’ll change to heaven the world and all And there command the stars to meet.

I’ll make your subjects all men’s hearts, Revive the Eden with my verse, Proclaim Thee high queen of it all Throughout the whole of universe.

XLVIII

Don’t wonder, shouldst Thou chance to hear Birds sing of Thy love’s wooing; They called once at my window sill To see what I was doing.

And they again came and again And soon taught me to love them, For I am free just as they are And am just like one of them.

I sang them many songs of Thee That in sweet love abounded, And they soon tuned their throats to them Till in their songs love sounded.

The other day I called on them In their woods and nooks shady And was surprised to find the birds To sing my songs already.

XLIX

The God’s world is so far and wide And goodness in small measure; By thousands one can count the pains And very little pleasure.

The heart is ready to redeem With hundred pains one pleasure-- And the same heart, O God, for love Will suffer past all measure.

L

Hey, in the rounds what pleasure While one his lass embraces! Let’s have the charming music-- Come, pale lad, join our races!

Ah, the pale lad’s whole body As though with cold frost shivered, And down his pale cheeks quickly A stream of hot tears quivered.

LI

Ye little, ye wee little birds, Ye song-dreamers in sleeping; Does anyone of you there know That I die here from weeping?

Dear moon, stop moving in the sky Till I some solace gather; My love’s fire’s extinct as art thou-- We both fit well together.

The last flame flickers to die out, All that’s left are words hollow; Yet I would blow all to new life, Though nought but grief should follow.

LII

My pillow was of sorrow made My sleep were tears, free flowing; Go easy, my heart--not so loud: Deep penitence I’m showing.

The moon comes by the window in, Gown’d in her deathly pallor, And in the heart a song died down As of a bird, sad caller.

Dear moon, light up the stars on high; Let dew descend on flowers; Awake from sleep the nightingale, But men--let sleep their hours!

You carry off the gorgeous love-- You know the calamity; I am now but a wretched man-- Ah, pity, pity, pity!

LIII

“’Tis wrong for men to lack in song--” In judgment God has spoken-- And then He sent a bard to men And gave him this as token:

“Throughout thy life have thou no rest, Thy bread with tears be eaten; Know thou nought but hard suffering, In all hopes be thou beaten!

“Though thy heart be rent to its blood-- View that blood to them clinging; Though driven by them through all lands-- Love them--and keep on singing!”

That lot is common to us bards. Men may have our songs chanted, But with what had brought on our song-- None cares to get acquainted.

LIV

My lips were lockt a long, long time, And mute as rocks are lonely, But suddenly they were unlockt By Thee with one kiss only.

That kiss fell as in month of May On parched earth falls a shower; Now songs began to sprout again In my soul with fresh power.

LV

When I shall trust my corpse to earth And my soul to God’s keeping, I ask to be laid as a bard Away to my last sleeping.

Into my hand I want the lyre, On head, leaves from laure’s arbor; Let my new neighbors know at once Who comes to their calm harbor.

I always holy held the lyre And not a mere toy only: So let it be mine ornament In night long and place lonely.

Should we feel lonesome in the graves And, maybe, for home too sick, Then I shall sing a song for them And cheer them up with music.

And should in your lives sluggishness And sleep here overtake you: I’ll rouse the dead and send them back, And they shall come and wake you.

LVI

My God, of all things I aspire I here confess, whole-hearted; All I pray for is that from song I never shall be parted.

Shouldst Thou withdraw my gift of song-- I ask to live no longer; Shouldst Thou for song bid me take bliss-- I still to song cling stronger.

LVII

Blest is the man whom the Lord’s hand As bard had consecrated; He has looked into God’s decrees And has men’s breasts well rated.

He knows what says the world’s great psalm And what the birds are singing; He understands the throbbing heart, In tears, and with joy ringing.

What secret is to other men Is open to his vision; He is the leader of God’s race To its long promised region.

He is the king of kingdoms vast, The priest of men’s salvation, And beauties’ treasures lie in him Beyond all estimation.

LVIII

Much has been trusted to Thy hands; My heart in them I planted, And God placed sweet songs in that heart To have men’s bliss augmented.

A strange plant is the human heart-- Not easily to nourish; For, it is up to love alone, If it shall die or flourish.

A strange plant is the human heart-- It needs the climate’s favor And dew and rain and best of care To yield fruit of good flavor.

So should my heart from Thy hands sprout In honor of the nation, Long ages that are yet to come Shall sing Thine adoration.

LIX

I bade the trumpets to be blown For glorious resurrection; I shall in final judgment sit-- Ye shall hear your fates’ lection.

Ye who have been opposed to love And have against it spoken: Ye shall despair for all the time, And your hearts shall be broken.

But ye who always have kept faith And treated love with favor: Ye come and gather on my right And live in love forever.

To you in heaven special place And special bliss be given, For, having loved upon the earth, You had the taste of heaven.

LX

He who can strike the golden strings Be highest honors given, For God has shewn you such great love That He sent him from heaven.

It’s dreadful when with barren fields And plague God means to punish, But greatest scorge visits the race From whom its songs do vanish.

That nation has not perished yet To whom its bards are singing: For all song is of heaven’s birth And life in death ’tis bringing.

LXI

At prophets cast ye never stones; They are as birds, shy, clever: Cast thou a stone at him but once, And he is gone forever.

God’s fearful wrath the nation seeks Whose love of bards is shaken, And greatest wrath befell the race From whom God songs has taken.

The poet’s heart is pure and chaste, His faith does never vary; Therefore, what he sings from his heart That ye in your hearts carry!

LXII

From heaven angels come to earth-- Dreams with their golden visions, And each of them brings men in sleep Delight from happy regions.

Wherever these fair angels stop, Men learn all they had craven; For they know and tell them in dreams Fair tales direct from heaven.

The eyelids suddenly get sealed-- With sweetness of sleep laden: Thine image stands in front of me-- Good night, good night--my maiden!

LXIII

Now go, my darling children, go-- This is no more your station; Accept for your quaint journey yet Your father’s osculation!

May be, somewhere they’ll honor you And offer you receptions; But somewhere they may criticise-- Be ready for exceptions!

But let your mind not be disturbed Nor wrinkles in face driven: All kinds of men live in the world, But few to love are given.

LXIV

In the sky the moon was standing; Dreams to me new songs were lending.

Birds came and told one another How much we did love each other.

That the fair fresh meadow flowers Would be wedding gowns of ours.

That green ivy with her story Would wreathe Thy head with its glory.

Adorned with thousand charms, That Thou wouldst rest in my arms.

LXV

He’s going far from home, With sorrow laden; He turns yet and looks back-- Good-bye, dear maiden!

He turns yet and looks back, His kerchief waving; With kerchief he dries yet Eyes in tears laving.

And now behind him closed A foreign region As in the sky the lark Gets lost to vision.

He’s gone, but he’ll come back Again, joy-laden-- But ere he will return-- Good-bye, dear maiden!

LXVI

(Posthumous)

The moon sails slowly in the sky So calmly and so freely; The nightingale wails in the twigs So sweetly and so really.

Thy image stands in front of me So calmly and so freely; The heart in longing wakes and calls So sweetly and so really.

A swarm of songs is circling ’round So calmly and so freely; And into mine eye steals a tear So sweetly and so really.

Now gentle sleep knocks at my door So calmly and so freely-- And I recall Thee to my mind So sweetly and so really.

LXVII

(Posthumous)

My sweetheart, look at those two clouds Above that mountain yonder-- The moon sheds her light on their way, And in close touch they wander.

The maiden choir of quiet stars Is twinkling to them greeting, And gentle zephyrs in their breath Bring odors to them, fleeting.

Lo! from the shrubs the nightingale Flew up with her narration-- Hark how she sends her song to them As song’s true incarnation!

My love, look from Thy window there How those clouds float together-- I asked them to bid Thee “good night,” Sweet dreams ’round Thee to gather.