Μη μου τους κυκλους ταρασσε

Every time this room feels your presence
it unwraps its gauzes opens up and waits.
As if you're transmitting some magical substances that'll cure its gashes.

Too solemn for day, too sweet for night,
Come not in darkness, come not in light;
But come in some twilight interim,
When the gloom is soft, and the light is dim

                                                             
William Sidney Walker