When the rosy wings of evening
Hover, spreading coolness over valley and hills,
   Over forest and [meadow]1;
When the dew waters the [trees]2,
Sinks into colourful flowers,
   And trembles upon the young ears of grain;

When with the ringing of bright bells
The sheep allow themselves to be enticed homeward,
   And the little lamb nurses [while walking]3,
When, in the blowing of light breezes,
The woodbine breathes its sweet scents
   Toward me refreshingly;

When the heavy cows bellow,
Gladly filling the shining pails,
   And the milkmaid sings while milking,
Then upon her colourful wreath,
Lightly, as if she were swaying in a dance,
   Brings the sweet milk home;

When the alders emit scents while rustling,
When the mosquitoes create [ripples on the ponds]4,
   When the frog swells while croaking,
When the fish leaps in the water,
Slipping from the cold depths,
   And the swan retires to its nest;

When, in the vale of the nightingales,
The evening star with a lovelorn beam
   [Secretly]5 kisses my water spring;
When, blushing like a bride,
Luna graciously appears, and is
   Flutingly greeted by Philomela:

Then sweet joys, hand in hand
With quiet pain, waft about
   My spirit; my eyes weep.
When the tear trembles in Luna's shimmer
I do not myself always know,
   What the quiet tear means.

Some I called tears of joy,
Which perhaps stole secret yearning
   From the deceived eyes,
Many a quiet wish trembled forth
With a sigh from my breast, and hovered
   Unseen in the moonbeams.

I implore you, evening breezes!
I implore you, cool scents!
    Evening Star! Moon! Nightingale!
Tell me, does this yearning befall
Only me with such tears
    In the secret moonlight?