Mother, what is it that trembles on Your lashes so soft—
And Your lips are salt as the taste of the sea?
Can it be for me Your eyes are brimming, Mother,
Even as they smile?
Can they be for me, these drops on Your lips so warm?
Dear One, do I understand at last!
O holy draught, wine of the world, bewildering and bitter-sweet!
Sacred tears, from the depths of what wild love welling!
Deeper and deeper let me drink and draw—
Nirvana, divine oblivion....