“What potion should I give the night so she’ll always wonder?”

What potion should I give the night so she’ll always wonder? Her pounding heart’s a rider galloping from the burning wood. Maybe my pharmacist is awake the next street over? In a crucible of  bone, snake tears mixed with herbs. Should I hurry? Call the doctor? A heart like hers is rare. And to tell the truth, if it shattered, what would I do? Translated from the Yiddish