Our souls, is it not, have not yet become accustomed to separation ...

Our souls, is it not, are not yet accustomed to separation?
All of each other's name is a flutter of sparkling wings!
Someone higher has spread these gently-woven hands,
But I forgot about remembering souls.

Every evening, lit by the will of a meek sorceress,
Every evening, when the fog over the mountains and in the heart,
To the unforgettable soul with an uncertainly timid gait
The previous deception is approaching.

Like the wind, that by a fleeting impulse, the past wakes,
You again smile at me from the sparkling lines.
Everything is allowed, all! We will not be condemned by day longing:
You're from a dream, I'm in a dream ...

Someone higher gave us an unnamedly sweet flour,
(There will be many wandering wanderings in the midst of snow and darkness!)
Someone higher has spread these gently-woven hands ...
We are not responsible!

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.