Listen, bright Venus-errant in the air!
Do you hear this clear voice moving, as I sing
to your face, shining so high above everything,
about my long labor and my exhausting care?
My eyes grow softer with this night's long stare,
and as you look you'll see much, much more weeping.
More tears will dampen my bed, with your eyes watching,
though they trouble the sight of witnesses so rare.
Humans are weary now. Their spirits sleep
in the gentle hold of rest that pulls them deep.
But my pain will last as long as the sky is bright,
and when, almost completely broken, I
am pulled to my tear-wet bed, I'll plead and cry
with hurt that will hold me through the whole long night.