And though winter still covers
The meadows with frost and mist;
[Though] spring flees and hides itself
With horror in the most distant forest:
  Hark! a lark nevertheless dares
To swing itself up into the air,
And lets its song of spring resound
All the brighter down to us!

  However sharply and roughly the breezes blow,
The violet's scent mixes itself among them;
However much the blossoms may suffer,
They abide confidently and cheerfully!
  The sunshine, too, abides confidently,
Soon the right hour shall come!
Then it shall break through like lightning
And dwell in the most secret depths!

  They[all] know: though the glory
Of springtime may yet tarry,
How, after a short time, so beautifully, so beautifully,
All the dreaming shall come to fulfillment!
  They know: that only for this reason
The dear God has covered the meadows,
So that the world, sweetly startled, may see all the splendour
Round about at the same time.