She who ever had remained in the depth of my being, in the twilight of gleams and
of glimpses; she who never opened her veils in the morning light, will be my
last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song.
Words have wooed yet failed to win her; persuasion has stretched to her its eager
arms in vain.
I have roamed from country to country keeping her in the core of my heart, and
around her have risen and fallen the growth and decay of my life.
Over my thoughts and actions, my slumbers and dreams, she reigned yet dwelled
alone and apart.
many a man knocked at my door and asked for her and turned away in despair.
There was none in the world who ever saw her face to face, and she remained in
her loneliness waiting for thy recognition.