You May Sing, Nightingale

O lady who was long ago,
Must I have a heart as cold as snow?
Must I simply call it myth,
And therefore not regard it with
Teary eyes?
Must it be only Philomela who cries?
The stars are singing in the deep.
You may sing, nightingale, but I can weep.

Lady who sings in the dark of night,
And whose song fills the world with light,
Must I turn away from you,
And call the tale any less true
Though tragic?
Must I turn my back on Grecian magic?
The stars are singing in the deep.
You may sing, nightingale, but I can weep.

Lady who calls up your ringing song,
How can you sing when the world such wrong
Did to you, O small and dear one?
To be raped and to lose your tongue-
Stronger than
Any I have known, either woman or man!
The stars are singing in the deep.
You may sing, nightingale, but I can weep.

O lady who sings to the full moon's flame-
"Lover of moonlight" means your name.
Lover of the greatest source of beauty,
And not only because it is your duty!
O lady,
Miracle among the boughs so shady!
The stars are singing in the deep.
You may sing, nightingale, but I can weep.

O lady who long ago lost her tongue,
And yet the most beautiful songs has sung
For centuries upon endless years,
Instead of yielding to her rightful tears-
What right I
To mourn when you refuse to cry?
The stars are singing in the deep.
You sing too, nightingale; I cannot weep.