I come down from the mountains,
The valley dims, the sea roars.
I wander silently and am somewhat unhappy,
And my sighs always ask "Where?"

The sun seems so cold to me here,
The flowers faded, the life old,
And what they say has an empty sound;
I am a stranger everywhere.

Where are you, my dear land?
Sought and brought to mind, yet never known,
That land, so hopefully green,
That land, where my roses bloom,

Where my friends wander
Where my dead ones rise from the dead,
That land where they speak my language,
Oh land, where are you?

I wander silently and am somewhat unhappy,
And my sighs always ask "Where?"
In a ghostly breath it calls back to me,
"There, where you are not, there is your happiness." 

Early in the morning before the sun rises again,
When, emerging from the steaming sea,
Dawn breezes in from above and below
Heralded by its shining spear - 
Birds flitter about here and there,
Singing joyfully hither and thither,
Singing a song, a song of jubilation.

You little birds, what are you all enjoying so much,
Why are you so delighted in the warming beams of the sun?
"We are enjoying the fact that we are alive and we exist,
And that we are companions in the air.
In time-honoured tradition
We are fluttering through the bushes;
Fanned by the lovely morning wind
Even the sun is sharing the pleasure."

You little birds, why are you sitting and crouching down so quietly
By the roof in your mossy nest? - 
"We are sitting here because the sun is not looking at us;
Night has already pushed it under the waves:
Only the moon,
That lovely glow,
The lovely reflection of the sun,
Does not abandon us when it is dark - 
That is why we take pleasure in silence."

O youth, cool morning time!
Where we, with our hearts wide open,
With a rapid and awakening awareness,
We enjoy the freshness of life,
You have truly fled away! away!
We old ones sit crouching in the nest!
Only the lovely reflection 
Of youth,
Where we take pleasure in the early light of dawn,
You do not abandon us in our old age, either - 
This quiet, reflective contentment!

You who are from heaven,
You quiet all sorrow and pain;
And he who is doubly wretched
You fill with twice as much [comfort]1.
Ah! I am tired of being driven!
For what is all this pain and joy?
Sweet peace,
Come, ah, come into my heart!