He's asleep! Enough, you delicate children of air!
You've sung to him faithfully, I declare!
I'm in your debt for all this.
He's not yet the man to hold devils fast!
Spellbind him with dream-forms, cast
Him deep into illusions' sea:
Now, for the magic sill I must pass,
I could use rat's teeth: no need for me
To conjure up a lengthier spell,
One's rustling here that will do well.
The Lord of Rats and Mice,
Of Flies, Frogs, Bugs and Lice,
Summons you to venture here,
And gnaw the threshold where
He stains it with a little oil -
You've hopped, already, to your toil!
Now set to work! The fatal point,
Is at the edge, it's on the front.
One more bite, then it's complete –
Now Faust, dream deeply, till we meet.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI