On the silent mountain peak
The lad of the valley rests
And gazes into the racking clouds,
Into the dying fire of the sun:
"Oh if I could float like the gods in the font
Of the Aether, in starry space!"--
He falls asleep -- Olympian joys
Envelop him gently in his dreams.

His bosom full of yearning rises
Toward the joys of the gods,
And still half in dreams, his eyes open,
Dim with tears:
"What do I hear ringing so enticingly?
What swooshes so wondrously
About my head with golden wings?
What do you desire, circling eagle?"

And he feels himself lifted upon pinions:
"Ah, do I still dream? Oh joy!"
He is carried, wrenched upwards;
The mountains recede far away!
"Oh sweet yearning and hoping!
Farewell, you nocturnal valley:
In eternal blueness stands open
The shining hall of the gods!"