He waits outside my gate,
And beckons by the door,
I thought I'd seen him gone,
But here he's gone no more.

And all the weary days have gone,
And restless nights galore,
Along with all the laughter,
And passion-crafted sighs.

Ambivalent is he, and so my joy derives,
No sympathy; nor pity, he is and so arrives,
And all the joy of Heaven, and malice left in Hell,
Cannot obstruct the duty which requires thus a knell.

I'd greet him as a stranger but,
I've known him long as I've known dust,
And yet can he be named as 'friend',
When he shall undo me in the end?

These constructs are of mortal mind,
These memories that tie me here,
But crafted as they are by love's twine,
My heart cannot abstain from cheer.

If in this chaos I've lived a hundred years,
Then still I'd have those fleeting times,
And would not those happy moments sing,
Of the peace the everlasting brings?

I've drunk hard and long on Sorrow's cup,
And been mad-drunk with Joy's delights,
I have seen sunrises and sunsets,
And felt the morning on my skin.

If he says today that I must go,
Then I will make my way,
But I have lived and not for naught,
To have lived is worth all pain.

He beckons, and I follow,
And to where we go I may not know,
But come the sunrise next I think,
It shall not matter much,
I've lived, and that's enough.