Resound briskly over the snowy field, my song,
Along through the silence of the slumbering valley!
No bird sings any longer.
No brooklet tinkles any longer.
Ring out, therefore, and sound all the more loudly, my song,
In defiance of the icy wind that rises up against you;
Pulse all the more audaciously, all the more briskly, my courage,
Course and surge all the more fervently, my blood!

The heights shimmer and glitter in the sunshine,
And down below, the firs, how lovely, how lovely!
No little branch stirs,
Moved by the wind.
Hasten all the more quickly and stride, my foot,
Though the squeaking of your steps be heard far and wide!
Ha! though the cold may penetrate [your] very bones,
It can never enter into [your] happy heart!

And the sky above, oh look, oh look!
The crystalline blue is almost transparent!
Only the most delicate scent 
In the golden air.
Thus must my eyes sparkle so joyfully,
Thus clear and brisk shall it be in my heart,
[Thus] shall my song echo from the heights:
Not springtime alone, winter, too, is beautiful!

Quietly ringing, the airy jesting
Of the wind opens
The red lips of the flower,
The green heart of the leaves.

The rushes perk up their ears
When there is a rustling in the reeds,
And with a thousand tongues they
Sough a fresh morning song.

The birds upon the branches are
Wakened by the sound of the leaves,
And in the aether their song
Whirls jubilantly.

And when man here below hears
How everything is beautifully attuned,
How upon waves and leaves
The air floats in melodies:

Then he presses the hand of his brother
Full of devoutness in his spirit,
And his lips rejoice,
And his soul glows.

 [Weep not]1,
When from the quiet parental home
The child goes forth into the world!
As your child leaves, you call a last greeting:
"Dear child, dear child, till we meet again!"
Therefore, do not weep!

 [Weep not]1,
When a beloved pair of eyes gently breaks in death,
The eyes were not the soul!
When we stand at a deathbed,
We say: "Till we meet again!"
Therefore, do not weep!

 [Weep not]1,
Even when a heart that you loved
Sank into the cold grave!
Do you hear the wind blowing through the weeping willows?
It soughs sweetly there: "Till we meet again!"
Therefore, do not weep!