I sit there at the shore,
  Waves, how you hurry!
Ah, you will so closely approach the place
  Where my maiden lives.

There she gazes into you.
  Waves, take wing;
Do not let other waves
  Be a mirror for my beloved.

The dear child is searching for roses
  To use as a bow on her bosom.
Rose, oh rose, come quickly
  So that she may seize you.

And that my queen
  May lack nothing in the way of ornaments,
Send, Longing, pearls to her,
  Pearls from out the soul.

But if she fishes you up in jest,
  Using her white hands as a net,
And she pins you to her heart,
  Tell her my name.

Tell her that I can no longer
  Linger far from her,
And that a ship shall soon
  Carry me toward her.