Oh, let the night speak of me, for day 
  Knows not how breaks with woe my heart;
Day knows not how I mournful stray,
  Weeping for thee, so dear thou art. 

The sad night weeps with me, and lays 
  Her tear-wet cheek against my own;
Although I walk in sun-lit ways,
  Still doth my heart in darkness moan. 

The night shall speak of me, and say 
  All things to thee I dare not show;
And to thy dreams my love display,
  Till thou art melted by my woe!