The pale dawn creeps across the window pane,
And paints the world in hues of softest gold;
Yet without thee, the sun arises vain,
For in thy gaze, the truer lights unfold.
The scent of morning brew cannot compare
To memories of slumber warm and sweet,
When visions of thy face dispel my care,
And make the rhythm of my heart complete.
I rise to greet the day, but only seek
The phantom touch of love within the air;
To see the rose that blooms upon thy cheek,
Is all the solace found for my despair.
Good morning, love! My muse, my vital breath,
Let not the shadows dim thy radiant grace;
I love thee ’til the stars perform their death,
And find my heaven in thy waking face.
Drawing inspiration from the Keatsian tradition, this English adaptation shifts focus from the sensory details of the room to the internal emotional landscape of the speaker. It utilizes the Iambic Pentameter to create a heartbeat-like rhythm, emphasizing the steadiness of true affection. The poem posits that the external world—the sun, the morning air—is lackluster without the ‘vital breath’ of the beloved, placing human emotion above the grandeur of nature, a quintessential trope of the Victorian Romantic era.
