It is evening. One bat dances
Alone, where there were swallows.
The waterlilies are shadowed
With cattails, the cattails with willows.

The moon sets; after a little
The reeds sigh from the shore.
Then silence. There is a whisper
“Thou art here once more.”

In the castle someone is singing,
“Thou art warm and dry as the sun.”
You whisper, and laugh with joy.
“Yes, here is one,

“Here is the other…Legs…
And they move so?”
I stroke the scales of your breast, and answer:
“Yes, as you know.”

But you murmur, “How many years
Thou hast wandered there above!
Many times I had thought thee lost
Forever, my poor love.

“How many years, how many years
Thou hast wandered in air, thin air!
Many times I had thought thee lost,
My poor soul, forever.”