Your curls wave, your eyes glow,
The breath of your voice flows fully and gently
[As] your harp [is] between your knees; --
Oh unfortunate, beautiful child!
And can nothing, oh nothing rescue you
From the burdensome dream of your life?
In vain you struggle in [your] chains
And one hardly harkens to your laments.

Your curls wave, the ribbon
That bound them has fallen off,
It is a wild, mad undulation,
With which every puff of wind plays;
Your eyes glow, thus glows the fire
That feeds itself, secretly growing,
And which, when grown, enormous,
Consumes the bosom upon which it slept.

The harp sounds, oh let it call out
The deepest pain of your heart!
But, unfortunate one, the tones
Do not reconcile you with the world;
In the depths of your soul the dark powers
Of poison are already churning,
You must wilt irrecoverably,
Your song resounds like bitter scorn.

You have loved, have squandered your heart,
You loved and were never loved [in return],
Your pain shall never be ended,
Your life-light shall ever be dimmed:
Ever in vain you struggle for love,
You sense it ever, achieve it never,
And give away the flower of your life
That it might bloom just once.

Your curls wave, your eyes glow
Your entire being is destroyed,
And that from which it would be most vital for you to flee,
That is what bewitches you the most;
You rip your last salvation from [your] heart,
You trample your God underfoot,
There is nothing sadder than your pain,
And your misery is followed by derision.

Unfortunate one, fervently once more
Painful empathy weeps with you,
So bestir yourself in hastening away,
Destroy your harp;
You must renounce, must renounce
The urge of love in this earthly vale,
[Must] lay to rest your entire heart
And plead for no ray of hope.