Hearest thou, the wind is foreign and autumnal
A guest marcheth unto thy pale home
Whether thou be standing by thy window, or weaving, or spinning,
Shut off thy light and lie down.
Thou hast fallen asleep, and I shall enter and sit.
Upon the floor I shall sit
To gaze upon thee.
Silent and foreign in thy peaceful room
As thine shoes, I shall wait for thee.
Then thou shall arise within the glow of enemies,
For my God hath passed in thy slumber
Then thou shall arise,
And two unpleasant dreams
Shall slowly come near,
Grab hold of thee
And lead thee unto me
Unto me
Unto me.