More, more? What else may she desire:
a whole garden shelters her in heaven?
The sun bathing her petals is the holy fire,
a cockerel is not her awakening warden
but a chorus of angels playing flute and lyre.
Yet, she asks: more, more! Oh, Heavenly Rose!
She does not sleep, what upsets her repose?
What a rose could not be, if not all I can see?
Should I dare and give a rose to another rose?
Will she accept, can the three fates foresee
when the golden gateway will unclose?
Why can’t you sleep? Oh, heavenly Rose!
Maybe, I dream within a dream and there
a rose is all other roses, her keen lips
are one too and her homely belly where
a blossom still to bloom calmly sleeps
is a meadow that other buds will revere?
If I dream, why waking? Oh, Heavenly Rose!
Drop the dark eyes, sweet scented maid,
the mysterious twins of your scarlet face,
answer if the heart where a seed is laid
is not a flower with the same cherry grace?
Dawn approaches, the scents of night fade,
Tell with your shy eyes. Oh, Heavenly Rose!
A hidden rose do you save for the night,
the moon concealing her silver radiance,
when a beggar dressed as a bright knight
lay at your side and with his word’s dance
incite your petals to bloom with white light.
Wait, wait for the night. Oh, heavenly Rose!