Four Song Offerings - 1st series

Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! 
I fear lest it droop
and drop into the dust.
[I may not find]1 a place in thy garland,
but honour it 
with a touch of pain  from thy hand and pluck it. 
I fear lest the day end 
before I am [aware]2,
and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep 
and its smell be faint, 
use this flower in thy service 
and pluck it while there is time.

That I want thee, only thee -
let my heart repeat without end. 
All desires that distract me, 
day and night, are false and empty to the core.

As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light, 
even thus in the depth of my unconsciousness 
rings the cry - 'I want thee, only thee'.

As the storm still seeks its end in peace 
when it strikes against peace 
with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against thy love 
and still its cry is - 'I want thee, only thee'.

He came and sat by my side
but I woke not.
What a cursed sleep it was, 
O miserable me!

He came when the night was still; 
he had his harp in his hands,
and my dreams became resonant with its melodies.

Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? 
Ah, why do I ever miss his sight 
whose breath touches my sleep?

Light, my light, the world-filling light,
the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life;
the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;
the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.
Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,
and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,
and gladness without measure. 
The heaven's river has drowned its banks 
and the flood of joy is abroad.