To the Rhine, to the Rhine, do not go to the Rhine,
My son, I am counselling you well:
[There]1 you would imbibe life too beautifully,
Your spirit would blossom too happily.

You would see the maidens so fair [and]2 the men so square
As if they were of noble blood;
And with fervent soul you would immediately be in their midst:
Thus you would consider it right and proper.

And aboard ship, how the castles would greet you so beautifully
And the city with the eternal cathedral!
[In]3 the mountains, how you would climb to dizzying heights
And gaze down into the river.

And in the river the Nixie would rise from the depths,
And once you have seen her smile,
And if the Lorelei [sang for]4 you with her pale mouth,
[My son]5, then you would be lost:

The sound would enchant you, [the]6 radiance would beguile you,
Rapture would seize you and horror.
[Then]7 you would only sing ever after: by the Rhine, by the Rhine,
And would never return home.

When I saw you for the first time,
It was on the sixth of March,
A bolt of lightening came out of the blue
Scorchingly into my heart.

It burned everything therein,
Nothing remained to me.
But [ivy-like]1 from the rubble grows
The name of my beloved.

Rest, my love, in the shade
Of green, darkening night;
The grass rustles on the meadow,
The shadows fan and cool thee
And true love is awake.
Sleep, go to sleep!
Gently rustles the grove,
Eternally am I thine.

Hush, you hidden songs,
And disturb not her sweetest repose!
The flock of birds listens,
Stilled are their noisy songs.
Close thine eyes, my darling,
Sleep, go to sleep;
In the twilight
I will watch over thee.

Murmur on, you melodies,
Rush on, you quiet stream.
Lovely fantasies of love
do these melodies evoke:
Tender dreams swim after them.
Through the whispering grove
Swarm tiny golden bees
which hum thee to sleep.

Though you be [in the distance, and though you be far away]1,
And though you are [still angry with me]2,
Yet day and night, full of sadness,
All my spirit is with you.
I think of your blue eyes
And also of your heart --
Ah, none, none shall I ever find
Who loves me as you do.

How the world was all roses
When I was still with you,
The green was rustling from all the heights,
The moon was shining so brightly.
You picked the rose, I kissed you,
I kissed and sang the while.
[Truly]3 none, none shall I ever find
Who loves me as you do.

To be sure I am now free as a falcon
Who flies over the mountains,
Before whom the world, the beautiful world,
Lies open in bright sunshine,
But the falcon has his home, his nest,
And where shall I someday find rest?
Ah, none, none shall I ever find
Who loves me as you do.

Oh evil day, oh evil hour
That parted us forever;
Then from the depths of my heart
Joy and peace departed.
Now I am seeking through land and sea,
And have neither rest nor peace;
But none, none shall I ever find
Who loves me as you do.

The scented herbs upon the lea,
The grass blade in the fresh morning dew,
The trees in their green garb,
     Every one of them cries: I depart,
     Farewell! I depart.

The roses in their bright splendour,
The lilies in their angelic attire,
The floweret upon the heath,
     Every one of them cries: I depart,
     Farewell! I depart.

All is only a coming and going,
A leave-taking more than a reunion;
We are happy, [we] hope, and [we] suffer,
     And must in the end depart,
     Farewell! we depart.

We saw each other again and hardly saw each other,
And everything vanished like a beautiful dream,
We gave each other our hands!
  Farewell! farewell! I depart;
     Farewell! I depart.

 Come! one more drink of sparkling wine!
 Adieu now, you loved ones! we must part.
 Adieu now, you mountains and you, my parental home!
 I've got a powerful desire to go out into the world.
 
 The sun, it does not linger in the sky;
 it is driven to go across land and sea.
 The wave does not cling to one shore;
 storms rage with power across the country.
 
 With hastening clouds, the bird there flies,
 and sings in distant lands its native song.
 So is a young man driven to go through woods and fields,
 to match his mother, the wandering world.
 
 Birds greet him familiarly over the sea;
 they have flown here from the fields of his homeland;
 the scent of flowers is familiar to him:
 they have been driven here from his homeland by the winds.
 
 The birds who know his parental home;
 the flowers that he grew for bouquets for his love;
 and Love, who follows him: they are all close by,
 so he is always at home in the most distant land.