Must morning always come again?
Will the might of the mundane never end?
Will accursed bustle consume
the heavenly approach of night?
Will love's secret sacrifice never burn eternally?
Light and wakefulness had their time measured out -
but timeless and limitless is the night's dominion;
eternal is the duration of that Sleep.
Sacred sleep! Do not cheer too seldom
those dedicated to night in this earthly day's task.
Only fools will mistake you, and know of no sleep
but the shadow that in that twilight
of veritable night you mercifully 
cast over us. They do not feel you 
in the golden flood of grapes,
in the almond trees' wondrous oil,
and in the brown nectar of poppies.
They know not that it is you
hovering about the bosom of the tender maiden,
making her lap Heaven;
they do not suspect that from old stories
you will emerge, opening up the heavens,
bearing the key to the abode of the blessed;
infinite secrets of a silent messenger.