Don't worry; I am here. In the wavering
tone of my voice, can't you hear me?
My desire for you has now taken wing
and circles about your face so palely.
Can't you see it, my soul, standing waiting
cloaked for you in a gown of silence?
Don't you realise that all my longings ripen
on the image of you like fruit on a tree?
If you are the dreamer, then I am your dream.
Might you wish to wake up, I am that might.
And all this splendour makes me shine
and turn myself into the quiet starlight
above the incredible City of Time.
Translated by Peter Jukes from a poem by Rilke