High in my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
Your color and your shape are as I love them
You are mine, you are mine, dear sweet-lipped woman
My endless dreams live on, abiding in your life.

My soul's lamp smiles, bedews your feet,
Sweeter on your lips is my bittered wine:
Oh harvester of my evensong,
How my solitary dreams believe you are mine!

You are mine, you are mine, I go shouting to the evening
breeze, and the wind is off with my widowed voice.
You despoil the depths of my eyes, your plundering
Is gentle as the water in your nightly eyes.

You are caught in that net of my music, my love,
And the nets of my music are as wide as heaven.
My soul is born on the shore of your mournful eyes.
In your mournful eyes begins the land of dreams.