To My Beloved

"There's steam and smoke and madness here
Theres no place for a guest to stand.
I cant so much as touch you, dear,
for I have hired out my hand

Come to me later! come at night
for then, my darling I am free.
My spirit wakes, my heart grows light,
the flame of love revived in me.

I'll sing as I have never sung,
the moment that your face appears;
and every word upon your tongue
shall turn to music in my ears.

I'll greet you then in such a way
as I would if I could dare.
Then all my troubles of the day,
my inmost wounds, will be laid bare.

And you will have my kisses all,
and tears enough--you'll have those too.
Whatever good is in my soul
I'll offer as a gift to you.

But now, beloved, you must go.
Love has no business in a shop.
I can't so much as touch you--no!
My life starts when the treadles stop."

--Morris Rosenfield, Yiddish slum poet.