I know—
this field will not fall silent one day.
Beneath these stars and by this river
dreams will still be seen that day—
the longing for golden dreams
will still fall upon the earth.
Just because I will go away,
will the chalta flowers no longer be wet
with drops of dew
in the soft waves of their fragrance?
Will the Lakshmi owl not sing anymore
for its beloved?
The yearning for golden dreams—
will it ever cease to fall upon this earth?
All around, quiet lamps,
a moist fragrance, gentle murmurs;
the ferry boats have come
and touched the shore near the hidden bends.
The stories of this earth
will live on forever;
today's dust of Assyria—
Babylon now lies in ashes.