English translations of Drei Lieder für eine tiefere Stimme mit Pianoforte, opus 1

[I once went out for a little]1 walk,
And something odd happened to me:
I saw a hunter at the forest edge,
Along the lake he rode back and forth;
Many deer were leaping close by his path;
What did the hunter do? -- He did not shoot them,
He trumpeted a song into the forest --
Now tell me, you people, what is that supposed to mean?

And as I walked on a bit,
Something odd again happened to me:
A fisher-maiden in a little boat
Sailed continually along the forest edge;
All around her the little fish leapt in the evening light;
What did the maiden do? -- She did not catch them,
She sang a song into the forest --
Now tell me, you people, what is that supposed to mean?

And when was I walking back again,
The oddest thing happened to me:
A riderless horse came toward me,
In the lake there floated an empty barque,
And as I walked along the alders,
What did I hear among them? -- Two people were whispering there,
And it was already late and there was moonlight --
Now tell me, you people, what is that supposed to mean?

Let me rest, let me dream
Where the evening breezes gently
Rustle in the blossoming trees,
Where the nightingales’
Songs again
Ring out in the twilight of the branches!
 
Just as the silvery brightness of the moon
Plays upon the dark waves of the brook,
In this bright hour
Upon [the pathway’s]1 dark ground
Of bygone days play
Delight and lamentation.
The joy and pain of remembrance
Flare up in my heart -
 
Let me rest, let me dream
To the singing of the nightingales
Under luxuriant blossoming trees,
A long time -- a long time!

Ye migrating birds in the air,
In the radiance of the ether, in the scent of the sun,
In the blue waves of the heavens,
I greet you as comrades!
I, too, am a migrating bird,
I am carried by a fresh breeze of life,
And the gift of my singing
Is my dearest possession.

No coinage is collecting rust in my money bag,
Like me, it runs through the whole world.
To fly through the entire world
Is better than to lie around.
The shiny and the brisk,
I gladly do not begrudge the years of wandering,
With everything else, it must
Immediately wander onward again.

Where a full goblet beckons to me –
I would like to see him, who would make me
Not drink the gift from God
With utter happiness!
Grasp the moment firmly!
That is my maxim, that is my fate.
I hate that which is dusty,
I only believe in that which is fresh!