|What precious thing are you making fast In all these silken lines?
And where and to whom will it go at last? Such subtle knots and twines!
I am tying up all my life in this, With all its hopes and fears,
With all its anguish and all its bliss. And its hours as heavy as years.
I am going to send it afar, afar, To I know not where above;
To that sphere beyond the highest star Where dwells the soul of my Love.
But in vain, in vain, would I make it fast With countless subtle twines;
For ever its fire breaks out at last, And shrivels all the lines.