Go in the scent of lemon trees and do not return

after the harvest.

Be one, do not divide.

Anoint your self with light, unfurl into the beams,

let not your image be reflected.

Rise, fall not like rain.

Make of your cheeks two briar roses

and be their branch.

Let your breasts become two lamps, and you

their darkness,

your hair a cloud and you the storm.

Go, go and blessed be the earth!

Rise unto the soul, vanish in water,

descend towards the soul.

Save me, I who am so small before your love!

Stay…There is no rest under your reign

but your death.

Only an instant passed between us

and time has now drawn to its close.

In my land that has birds for boundaries,

endless arr the boundaries

between your face and mine.

In my land, where flowers break out of rocks,

privation crushes me.

In my land where nightingales rest

on window sills,

where heaven borders earth,

we are as far apart from one another

as shadow from the body.

Faces bend down to me, I can not see you,

if only you would stay a while,

beyond despair, I could rejoin you. 

Wait, that I may come…

Then shall we go in the scent of lemons

and I shall win you

in death’s full bloom.