There sighs, lamentations and loud wailings resounded through the starless air, so that at first it made me weep; strange tongues, horrible language, words of pain, tones of anger, voices loud and hoarse, and with these the sound of hands, made a tumult which is whirling through that air forever dark, and sand eddies in a whirlwind.

But if, as morning rises, dreams are true.

No one thinks of how much blood it costs.

I was so full of sleep at the time that I left the true way.

We have no hope and yet we live in longing.

Love and the gentle heart are but the same thing.

Love, that all gentle hearts so quickly know.