I think of you, in the holy [stillness]1 of evening
You appear before me in the twilight;
My heart’s firm resolve is broken,
I was able to lose you! -- not to forget you.
 
I think of you; -- but I still hate him
Who by deception deprived me of my most beautiful joy;
The past shines for me like a shimmer of roses
That flew away before the horrible darkness.
 
I think of you since that painful moment
When [your lips gave me the last kiss:]2
I did not anticipate such a horrible ending;
I had expected to rest upon [a faithful]3 bosom.
 
I think of you; -- never can I relinquish you,
Even if you were entwined in the bonds of another love:
With joy would I grasp the handle of a dagger,
If only it were given me by Emma’s dear hand.
 
And if I found upon it the sweet words of comfort:
"I have, oh friend, sometimes thought of you!" --
Then the gateway of death would become a gate to heaven,
That beckons joyously from the darkness of my grave.
 
Thinking of you, I would sink the dagger into my breast,
The last comfort, the much-beloved blade;
And in death yet, gratefully think of Her,
Who through the dagger freed me from every agony.