The speaker asks someone, presumably the Minna of the title, to let her voice work like a dawn: soft, gradual, and gentle on the skin. The "little gestures" it drops on his forehead feel almost like touches, as if sound could become something physical and tender.
Around that request, the poem sets a drowsy, half-awake state. His thoughts are "slumber-edged," and they wave back at her with greetings that are "droll and confused," like someone surfacing from sleep and smiling without quite knowing why. Pain appears briefly, joking with the "whirling night," and then both disappear "like an untold prayer," a quiet, unfinished vanishing.
The repeated first and last lines make the poem feel like a soft refrain, almost a plea said twice. The mood is calm, intimate, and relieved. The speaker seems to want comfort more than anything else, and her voice is what promises it.