In Nature's realm

Songs fell into my soul,
unsummoned, suddenly,
like dew appears
on a hill covered with kale stalks.

Pearls flicker about,
I feel so young, healthy,
that I don’t know if it’s my joy,
or the cry of my forlorn soul.

But the moon begat the dew,
and the songs don’t stay in my soul:
they flow with happiness and tears,
and day prepares for dawn.

In the evening the forest unties its bells,
and birds ring for a quiet nest,
the cuckoo rings the big ones,
the nightingale rings the loveliest.

Every forest branch is sprinkled with song
and every note-leaf is its child,
from heaven’s ceiling hangs a lamp
from which silver threads are drawn.

And every string ends in sleep,
dreams leap like sparks from tree to tree,
only the doe brushes them off
and bathes in the forest dew.

Now even the ringers are asleep,
the forest’s breath quiets for a first nap,
and if the nightingale chirps,
that will sound an awakening.

Now all is asleep, even the doe naps,
even the bells hang exhausted,
Night’s footsteps echo throughout,
so nature can fall asleep.

Rye field, rye field,
how merrily it ripens!
Every blade is a musician,
as if they had been strewn everywhere.

Rustling a satin robe,
readied the wind for dancing,
The sun hugs and kisses,
and folds the blades of rye.

After the butterfly whispers the bee,
when someone touches the cornflower,
and the mocking cricket
under the ridge is chirping.

Rye field, rye field,
how merrily it ripens!
Every blade is a musician,
as if they had been strewn everywhere.

The white birch ran out,
out of the herd like the nanny-goat,
the birch ran past the border of the forest,
thus is coming the Spring idyll.

The birch ran out like a doll,
so soft and so slender,
then she ran through the forest
and everything quivered with desire.

The Spring idyll buzzes in,
like air and the violin and on the shawm,
the air smells sweet, totally of flowers,
and a young smile for the world.

Each green-clad tree,
dons its Sunday best,
and each branch, each bud
speaks in new tongues.

As if called for a feast,
guests arrive from far and near,
and after a day, or two, the vast region,
the whole world was a Spring idyll.

Today we shall leap into song!
Today the just God prepares a feast,
today the whole world and everything outside
leads to the wedding bed.

In flower bells, mayflies dance,
beetle wings flap in the grass,
and waters whisper, forests are fragrant,
and [whoever] longs for something, searches [his] heart.

In heaven the candles are lit,
the West [glows] a virginal red,
and the nightingale calls,
like a priestess, with reverent voice.

Today the great book of poetry
is wide open on the world’s altars,
today every thread in the world
in jest and truth is stretched.

And heavens shine, breezes whisper,
today every song rings joy throughout the world,
today earth and heaven are one chalice,
from which we shall drink gladness.