Wait No Longer

My death will come on a restless midnight in spring,
my newborn grave will be written in streams of light;
the forest's echo will sway to wild melodies that ring,
then death will come, all voiced murmur lost from sight.

The southern wind will no longer drift on my song,
spring's distracted moonlight will wait no more,
countless stars will laugh across the sky all night long,
then death will come, in earth's unsated dreams and lore.

All delusion has passed, earthly bonds are torn apart,
in barren fields I've wasted so many days in vain,
in this heart now rises only a cry of sorrow's art,
fading toward the horizon, slowly becoming plain.

Know that my death will come in earth's unfulfilled desire;
beloved, on that day let your yearning heart not tire.