Gently, so as not to awaken you,
Rustles the night wind, dear woman!
Quietly into the marble basin
The fountain pours its dew.

As the water, dripping down,
Draws circle after circle,
So, gently pounding, does my heart
Tremble at this song.

Vibrate, o sounds of my zither,
Float upwards, on light wings;
Through the vine-wreathed lattice
Slip into my darling's boudoir.

"Is there then, my lovely Dolores,"
sing to her in her dream -
"In the mussel-shell of your ears,
Is there no room for pearl-like little words?

Think of the leaves, thickly enclosing the trellis,
Where, entwined among sweet-scented bushes,
You trembled in bliss,
Like the leaves above you!

The place was yet still and safe
And nothing espied us;
It was seldom that a night
Bird rustled in the foliage. 

O give your friend [one more]1 hour,
When your arms enfold him [thus]2,
And a kiss from your mouth 
Pierces his heart like fire!

Have you so completely forgotten him?
Alone, he awaits you on the balcony;
Over the tops of the cypresses
The sickle-moon is already turning pale.

As the water, dripping down,
Draws circle after circle,
So, gently pounding, does his heart
Tremble at this song.