There is a land where all is pure, <br />And this land is called <br />The land of death. <br />Here nothing is pure. <br />All things suffer corruption. <br />But soon a herald will come. <br />Hermes is his name, <br />his winged wand rules all souls. <br />Like birds affrighted, <br />like withered leaves before him they fly. <br />O beautiful, peaceful god, <br />See, Ariadne waits. <br />Ah, from all pains and miseries <br />must my heart be purified; <br />then you will nod to me, <br />your steps will reach my cave, <br />on my eyes there falls a darkness, <br />on my heart you'll lay your hand. <br />In the regal festal garments <br />that my mother wove for me, <br />I will wrap my weary body, <br />and this cave will be my tomb. <br />But my soul in solemn silence <br />follows its new-made lord, <br />like a leaf by winds driven <br />downward falling, gladly following. <br />On my eyes there falls a darkness, <br />darkness too will fill my heart, <br />and within this cave my body <br />richly robed alone will lie. <br />It is you who will save me, <br />my captive soul freed of <br />this burden of being. <br />Lift it from me. <br />To you I will lose all myself <br />with you will Ariadne dwell.<br /><br />Hugo von Hofmannsthal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ariadne-auf-naxos/
