THOUGH I know, my friend, that we are different my mind refuses to own it. For we two woke up in the same sleepless night while the birds sang, and the same spell of the spring entered our hearts. Though your face is towards the light and mine in the shade the delight of our meeting is sweet and secret, for the flood of youth in its eddying dance has drawn us close. With your glory and grace you conquer the world, my face is pale. But a magnanimous breath of life has carried me to your side and the dark line of our difference is aglow with the radiance of a dawn.
WHEN THE creation was new and all the stars shone in their first splendour, the gods held their assembly in the sky and sang 'Oh, the picture of perfection! the joy unalloyed!' But one cried of a sudden-It seems that somewhere there is a break in the chain of light and one of the stars has been lost.' The golden string of their harp snapped, their song stopped, and they cried in dismay-'Yes, that lost star was the best, she was the glory of all heavens!' From that day the search is unceasing for her, and the cry goes on from one to the other that in her the world has lost its one joy! Only in the deepest silence of night the stars smile and whisper among themselves-'Vain is this seeking! Unbroken perfection is over all!'