You who are not kept anxiously awake for love’s sake, sleep on.
In restless search for that river, we hurry along;
You whose heart such anxiety has not disturbed, sleep on.
Love’s place is out beyond the many separate sects;
Since you love choosing and excluding, sleep on.
Love’s dawn cup is our sunrise, his dusk our supper;
You whose longing is for sweets and whose passion is for supper, sleep on.
In search of the philosopher’s stone, we are melting like copper;
You whose philosopher’s stone is cushion and pillow, sleep on.
I have abandoned hope for my brain and head;
You who wish for a clear head and fresh brain, sleep on.
I have torn speech like a tattered robe and let words go;
You who are still dressed in your clothes, sleep on.