Finally I see you once more,
You sweet homeland,
You cottage, quiet and lowly,
Where my cradle stood.
 
But why are all you people
Coming toward me?
All the roads are crowded
And down below, the valley surges [with people].
 
Hark, the sound of the bells is beating
So mournfully upon my ears,
The dull tones are lamenting
That someone has lost a loved one.
 
And dark bearers walk
Along the path to the mill,
And in the procession ahead of all the others
A deeply distressed man.
 
Oh stop, you people
Who know the identity of the dead one;
Let me fold back the shroud
Before you tell me the name.
 
The cloths have parted,
Was it a premonition? --
Oh woe! my love, deceased,
Yet still so beautiful forever.
 
Only set down the bier,
Even if this is not the right place,
And when you lift it again
You shall be carrying two.
 
Let me grasp your hand,
No prohibition separates us now:
To kiss you -- and to perish --
Is there a more beautiful death?! --