Through the old city’s silence,
   Where the Abana flows,
Oh, harken to the nightingale
   Sing lyrics to the rose!

But through the dusk no answer
   Is ever breath’d or sung,
Though the bird’s heart with pleading
   The whole night long is wrung.

Yet well the lonely songster
   Knows that the red rose hears.
... Ah, Love, I need no answer,
   But let me see your tears!