Away I turn to the holy, the unspeakable, the secretive Night. Down over there, far, lies the world -- sunken in a deep vault -- its place wasted and lonely. In the heart's strings, deep sadness blows. In dewdrops I'll sink and mix with the ashes...
What wells up so menacingly under the heart and gulps down the soft air's sadness? Are you pleased with us, dark Night? What're you holding under your cloak, that grabs so unseen at my soul? Costly balm drips from your hand, from a bundle of poppies. You raise up the soul's heavy wings. Darkly, unspeakably we feel moved... How poor and childish the Light seems to me now -- how happy and blessed the day's departure...
Must the morning always return? Will the earthly force never end? Unholy busyness devours the Night's heavenward approach. Won't Love's secret offering ever burn forever? Light's time was measured out to it; but Night's reign is timeless and spaceless. -- Forever's the length of sleep.
Holy sleep -- don't make the Night's elect too rarely happy in this earthly day-labor. Only fools misrecognize you... They don't feel you in the grapes' golden flood -- in almond trees' wonder oil -- in poppies' brown juice. They don't know its you hovering around a tender girl's breasts making her womb heaven...
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