Do not keep to yourself the secret of your heart, my friend!
Say it to me, only to me, in secret.
You who smile so gently, softly whisper, my heart will hear it, not my ears.
The night is deep, the house is silent, the birds’nests are shrouded with sleep.
Speak to me through hesitating tears, through faltering smiles, through sweet shame and pain, the secret of your heart.
“Come to us, youth, tell us truly why there is madness in your eyes?”
“I know not what wine of wild poppy I have drunk, that there is this madness in my eyes.”
“Ah, shame!”
“Well, some are wise and some foolish, some are watchful and some careless. There are eyes that smile and eyes that weep-and madness is in my eyes.”
“Youth, why do you stand so still under the shadow of the tree?”
“My feet are languid with the burden of my heart, and I stand still in the shadow.”
“Ah, shame!”
“Well, some march on their way and some linger, some are free and some are fettered-and my feet are languid with the burden of my heart.”
“What comes from your willing hands I take. I beg for nothing more.”
“Yes, yes, I know you, modest mendicant, you ask for all that one has.”
“If there be a stray flower for me I will wear it in my heart.”
“But if there be thorns?”
“I will endure them.”
“Yes, yes, I know you, modest mendicant, you ask for all that one has.”
“If but once you should raise your loving eyes to my face it would make my life sweet beyond death.”
“But if there be only cruel glances?”
“I will keep them piercing my heart.”
“Yes, yes, I know you, modest mendicant, you ask for all that one has.”
“Trust love even if it brings sorrow. Do not close up your heart.”
“Ah no, my friend, your words are dark, I cannot understand them.”
“The heart is only giving away with a tear and a song, my love.”
“Ah no, my friend, your words are dark, I cannot understand them.”
“Pleasure is frail like a dewdrop, while it laughs it dies. But sorrow is strong and abiding. Let sorrowful love wake in your eyes.”
“Ah no, my friend, your words are dark, I cannot understand them.”
“The lotus blooms in the sight of the sun, and loses all that it has. It would not remain in bud in the eternal winter mist.”