I wish to drift afar from this world,
I wish to rest, to sleep unrustled,
And yet, ere I go and suffer- turmoiled,
in sheets that imprisons,
These nightly chains against my accord.
Oh, where in the land of the awake?
Where to do I find a peace to lie on?
An instrument, a song, to release from my bonds,
To the Zion only sweet sleep can create?
Alas, the dawn is nearing and the sun breaking,
My weary head finds no peace still,
And as the clock’s fingers keep on turning,
I lose myself in dreams I never will.