The sea fevers for night’s arrival

The distance is pensive, lost in thought

A blue stillness, such a stillness

Somewhere a sailboat has tarried

A sail – a cradle with childish sleep

And stillness swings up onto the new moon, dangles

And swings like that and rocks like that

On the silver rim, on the silver edge.

In a tiny silver nap, it dozes off

And a tiny star drops into the cradle.

The sea is set out like a silver bed

And stars lie there, spellbound

If the new moon lays a path over the sea,

A mirrored path over the stillness of the sea,

And charms and enchants and wakes and calls—

Well then, who doesn’t become intoxicated? Who doesn’t get stirred up?

So in the middle of the night who will skate

With the stars on the silver wake? 

Skate like that on the mirrored rim

Together with the stars, side by side,

Come as a silver one to the new moon

And put to sleep the parched mouth in the cradle? 

If such sparkle of passion and desire keeps trickling,

Who there will prevent me from being a child?