Lonely and forsaken feels
That man, far from home,
Who because of his [great] longing can neither hate
Nor fervently love.
 
His dreams rove in the distance,
Where glaciers glow rosily,
Where by the familiar foaming of the river
Much-loved flowers bloom.
 
He would like to kiss every cloud
That scuds toward his mountains,
He would like to pray by every river
That flows [from]1 his lands.
 
Thus, too, hangs upon a single star
[This]2 spirit, deprived of all peace;
The blue distance of your eyes
Pulls me inevitably [toward you]:
 
Your voice full of kindness,
Lovely as the springtime wind,
Lips, which in their flowering
Are the homeland of my soul --
 
If I think of them, I feel as forsaken
[And] lonely as that man,
Who because of his [great] longing can neither hate,
Nor fervently love.