And what can I hope for now of meetings again?
They remain as buds that will not bloom!
Paradise and hell within my heart,
moans and hopes that caress and wound me.
Always within me lives one desire:
to bow before an unknown purity,
to that which is higher and better,
to that which until now has not warmed me.
This I call sanctification –
and I feel it for You, O friend of my soul!
Yet here I remain once more alone,
and time goes by, giving me nothing.
And all that, in silence, I have rhymed,
brings me joy and yet saddens me again…
And longing once more drives me through journeys,
where I slowly kill myself.
And I am losing, but I am not surprised,
for life has spoiled and caressed me:
it gave me fire, crown and glory,
but far more often shook me from the foundation.
