My night grew long beneath the meteor's gleam,In vain—I found naught save exhaustion's dream.
My heart was filled with longing's fantasies,And long fatigue and care were my allies.
She told me she would be my comforter—What solace for a heart depressed by her?
She told me she would bring me consolation—How sweet that solace in the meteors' station!
O fancy, thou art my most faithful friend,O fancy, thou art kindness without end.
O fancy, thou art my most cherished guide,If friendship's honour is the hoped-for tide.
Today I read a comprehensive tomeOf human souls that lineage calls home.
And all mankind appeared to me the same—The loyal and the ruined heart's defame.
My people said: Thy soul hath lied to thee.I said: Not so! No falsehood dwells in me.
It is a free soul—if it claims descent,That lineage is honour's fair content.
O wisest of this world of mortal breath,Wisdom lies not in literature's false wreath.
True wisdom is to press your onward wayTill you unlock the ages' riddle today.
He is not deathless who fears burning flame—Deathless is he who plunged through fire's acclaim.
Awake, my people, to your urgent plight—As darkness imminent eclipses light.
My night grew long among divergent books,Their learning brought me neither cheer nor looks.
My blossom withered and my tears ran free,Sleep fled—I knew not why this happened to me.
My mind was scattered into branches wide,My thought was lost among those branches' tide.
My years were wasted wandering astray,I harvested but weariness's grey.
They wounded one another, then withdrew—None knows who conquered, who was overthrown too.
I came to hate companionship's dull round—My soul preferred delight's ecstatic sound.
I spend my life within my solitude,No comforter have I save books imbued.
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