Friend, in the Desolate Time

Friend, in the desolate time, when your soul
is enshrouded in darkness
    When, in a deep abyss, memory and feeling
die out,
Intellect timidly gropes among shadowy forms
and illusions
    Heart can no longer sigh, eye is unable
to weep;
When, from your night-clouded soul the wings
of fire have fallen
   And you, to nothing, afraid, feel
yourself sinking once more,
Say, who rescues you then?”Who is the
comforting angel
    Brings to your innermost soul order and
beauty again,
Building once more your fragmented world,
restoring the fallen
    Altar, and when it is raised, lighting
the sacred flame?”
None but the powerful being who first from
the limitless darkness
    Kissed to life seraphs and woke
numberless suns to their dance.
None but the holy Word who called the worlds
into existence
    And in whose power the worlds move on
their paths to this day.
Therefore, rejoice, oh friend, and sing in
the darkness of sorrow:
    Night is the mother of day, Chaos the
neighbor of God.

Erik Johan Stagnelius

Translated from the Swedish by Bill Coyle