O! My sweet-heart come on now,
To be hugged in the ring of my arms,
For as soon as the sun descends,
My waiting eyes begin to count,
The stars in the darkening sky,
And your image began,
To waft along the gaze.
Somewhere on the pages,
Of the voluminous book of love,
I have read, it was written,
When all the blinking stars are enumerated,
Whatever we pray for,
Our prayers are granted,
Our wishes are realized.
But in your case it seems nothing,
For my eyes begin to tire,
Praying lips begin to exhaust,
And there is no mark of your appearance.