Urgent strings, insistent reed,
familiar song of longing
threading through richly woven fabric,
not quite obscured, not drowned out,
always calling – Come now! Come here!
Here will be heaven’s treasure,
Here the divine manna,
Here, a marvel, a bright splendour.
In each ‘nun komm’ is held
a full year’s worth of longing
now poured out
in vigorous, plaintive demand;
voice added to voice
until heaven itself tears open
and drops down its blessing.