If thou my love canst not remain, O be my friend, I pray; For when one has outloved one’s love, Friendship may have its way.
This wild carnival of loving, This delirium of our bosoms Comes unto an end, and now we Soberly gape on each other!
Drain’d the cup is to the bottom, Brimming with intoxication, Foaming, glowing to the margin; Drain’d the cup is to the bottom.
And the fiddles too are silent, Which for dancing gave the signal, Signal for the dance of passion; Yes, the fiddles too are silent.
And the lamps too are extinguish’d, Which their wild light shed so brightly On the masquerade exciting; Yes, the lamps too are extinguish’d.
And to-morrow comes Ash-Wednesday, When I’ll sign upon thy forehead With the cross of ashes, saying: “Woman, that thou’rt dust, forget not.”
O how rapidly develop From mere fugitive sensations Passions that are fierce and boundless, Tenderest associations!
Tow’rds this lady grows the bias Of my heart on each occasion, And that I’m enamoured of her Has become my firm persuasion.
Beauteous is her spirit. Truly Thus I learn to rise superior To the overpowering beauty Of her form and mere exterior.
Ah, what hips! and, ah, what forehead! Ah, what nose! Could aught serener Be than this sweet smile she’s wearing? And how noble her demeanour!
Ah, how fair art thou, whenever Thou thy mind disclosest sweetly, And thy language with the grandest Sentiments o’erflows discreetly!
When thou tell’st me how thou always Worthily and nobly thoughtest; How unto thy pride of heart thou Greatest sacrifices broughtest!
How with countless millions even Men could woo and win thee never; Sooner than be sold for money Thou wouldst quit this world for ever.
And I stand before thee, listening To the end with due emotion; Like an image mute of faith, I Fold my hands with meek devotion.
Have no fear, dear soul, I pray thee, Thou art safe here evermore; Fear not lest they’ll take away thee, For I’ll forthwith bar the door.
Though the wind may roar around us, It will do no mischief here; That a fire may not confound us, Let us put the light out, dear!
Let me in mine arm, dear small one, Thy enchanting neck enfold; In the absence of a shawl, one Gets so very quickly cold.
These fair limbs, of size so massive, Of colossal womanhood, Now are, in a yielding mood, Under my embraces passive.