Our love is ordered by the calm

        stars

now we know that in us many men

   have their being

       who came from very far away

          and are one under our brows

it is the song of the dreamers

who tore out their heart

and carried it in the right hand

        (remember dear pride all these

            memories

        of the sailors who sang like

           conquerors

        of the chasms of Thule of the

           gentle skies of Ophir

        of the cursed sick people of those

           who fled from their shadow

        and of the joyous return of

           happy emigrants)

this heart ran with blood

and the dreamer went on thinking

of his wound delicate

         (You will not break the chain of

             these causes)

and painful and said to us

         ( which are the effects of other

             causes)

my poor heart my broken heart

resembling the heart of all men

          ( here here are our hands that

               life enslaved)

has died of love or so it seems

has died of love and here it is

      such is the way of all things

tear out yours also

        ( and nothing will be free until

             the end of time)

let us leave all to the dead

and hide our sobs

Translated by Winifred Radford