Idyll

Your voice and your steps fall as soft as dew on my day
  of work.
Where I sit there is spring in the air around me from
  your living warmth.
You blossom in my thoughts, you blossom in my blood,
  and I only wonder,
that my happy hands do not burst out into heavy roses.

Now the space of everyday envelops us two, like a
  soothing faint haze.
Are you afraid of becoming a prisoner, are you afraid of
  drowning in the greyness?
Do not be afraid: in the week-day's innermost soul,
in the heart of life itself,
a deep, sacred day is burning with tranquil humming
  flames.