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 his lands.
 
Thus, too, hangs upon a single star
This 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.