Mother, I'm so tired, I want to sleep now;
Let me fall asleep and feel you near,
Please don't cry--there now, you'll promise, won't you?
On my face I felt your buring tear.
Here's so cold, and winds outside are frightening,
But in dreams--ah, that's what I like best:
I can see the darling angel children,
When I shut my sleepy eyes and rest.

Mother, look, the Angel's here beside me!
Listen, too, how sweet the music grows.
See, his wings are both so white and lovely;
Surely it was God who gave him those.
Green and red and yellow floating round me,
They are flowers the Angel came and spread.
Shall I, too, have wings while I'm alive, or--
Mother, is it only when I'm dead?

Why do you take hold of me so tightly,
Put your cheek to mine the way you do?
And your cheek is wet, but yet it's burning--
Mother, I shall always be with you . . .
Yes, but then you mustn't go on sighing;
When you cry I cry as well, you see.
I'm so tired--my eyes they won't stay open--
Mother--look--the Angel's kissing me

Hans Christian Andersen