For I would lay it on my heart in death,
And bid the gift farewell with my last breath.
I must die shortly, swiftly, suddenly!
Well die together! Dost thou see that shot-hole?
There will I dwell. Each morning for a sign,
I’ll hang a black cloth on the balcony,
And at the grate each evening place a lamp.
There gaze thou steadfast. Throw I down the cloth,
Or if the lamp expires before its time,
Close thou thy window. I maybe return not.