From what desire, what heaven, do I seek from You?
My heart is gone, it cannot yearn anew.
My heart is gone, it cannot yearn anew.
Though a mirror, I am not so accepted, alas,
That a face might turn to me, embrace my glass.
My heart is gone, it cannot yearn anew.
My heart is gone, it cannot yearn anew.
For the wine and rose, the night holds faith and light,
But we, alas, have lost our trust in sight.
For this, the garden of desire grants hue,
From what desire, what heaven, do I seek from You?
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