From the steep heights of the Alps,
Where the red beams of sunrise
Colour the iced snow,
I would like to look down sometime.

  I would like to wander once among the cowherds,
To listen to how the waters fall,
To hearken where the horns echo,
To rest where evening fires burn.

  Upon the meadows strewn with colourful flowers
Herds played, water-springs would sparkle,
In the clear waves of the lakes
I could see my image reflected.

  And by the sheer rocky walls,
Where the shy mountain-goats dwell,
Where the alpine rose sits enthroned,
I would climb up with a bold hand.

  And with the free air playing about me,
I would be gladdened by the delicate flower,
In the silent sanctuary
I would refresh myself with its scent.

  Amiably then upon me, memories
Would pour quietly again;
Silently I would bow down,
And -- the rose would be for you.