The day is long, the hours so few,
To kiss the girl with lips of dew,
Yet, so we touch and moan and cry,
Still, too soon to die,

My smiles are set in stones of tears,
The nights, the solitude, the fears,
That longing for a rising sun,
Still, we shall be done, 

The ice that burns into my heart
In desire’s fire first got its start;
Life, from life, from stars, is born,
Still, to feel the sun in morn,

My dreams now float me down the Nile,
Without one sound, without one smile,
With scented lilies, serene, but sad,
Still, awake, I’m sometimes glad,

Why wish for that which cannot be,
Siren songs too much torture me,
For the path can only lead one way,
Yet, still, the children play.