Source language: Engels
Meeting at Night
The Turkish blue sea and long silent land;
Above the yellow huge moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed in the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
A pavement to cross till a bench appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And far away a blue spurt of a lighted match,
Our voices less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than our two hearts beating each to each!