You I sought by day,
thought: in light you live.
Break the darkness then.

Turn your heart to me.

Dead, without trace,
Yet not dead enough
to deserve the grave.
Stolen from your hand
while you glanced away,
with no thought for me.

Turn your heart to me.

Plant new heart in me.
Give my mouth a voice,
my shade a body.

Dead is deaf-and-dumb.
There nobody knows.
Name has been erased.

Turn your heart to me.

If you will not send
me a glimpse of you,
I want no one else,
laugh my mask to stone,
flee into the dark,
turn to wilderness.

Turn your heart to me.

Streaks of morning light,
tear the darkness then.

Turn my heart in me.

[Text: Huub Oosterhuis, after Psalm 88]