English translations of Drei Bearbeitungen volkstümlicher Lieder für vierstimmigen Chor und Klavier, opus 376

By the fountain, near the gate,
There stands a linden tree;
I have dreamt in its shadows
So many sweet dreams.

I carved on its bark
So many loving words;
I was always drawn to it,
Whether in joy or in sorrow.

Today, too, I had to pass it
In the dead of night.
And even in the darkness
I had to close my eyes.

And its branches rustled
As if calling to me:
"Come here, to me, friend,
Here you will find your peace!"

The frigid wind blew
Straight in my face,
My hat flew from my head,
I did not turn back.

Now I am many hours
Away from that spot,
And still I hear the rustling:
There you would have found peace!

I'm looking in vain for the reason
That I am so sad and distressed;
A tale known for many a season
Will not allow me to rest.

Cool is the air in the twilight
And quietly flows the Rhine;
The mountain top glows with a highlight
From the evening sun's last shine.

The fairest of maiden's reposing
So wonderously up there.
Her golden treasure disclosing;
She's combing her golden hair.

She combs it with comb of gold
And meanwhile sings a song
With melody strangely bold
And overpoweringly strong.

The boatman in his small craft
Is seized with longings, and sighs.
He sees not the rocks fore and aft;
He looks only up towards the skies.

I fear that the waves shall be flinging
Both vessel and man to their end;
That must have been what with her singing
The Lorelei did intend.

 The moon has risen,
 the tiny golden stars shine
 in the heavens bright and clear;
 the forest stands dark and silent,
 and from the meadows climbs
 a wondrous white mist.

 How still is the world,
 and in the veil of twilight,
 as comfortable and lovely
 as a quiet chamber,
 where the misery of the day
 you will sleep away and forget.

 Do you see the moon standing there?
 There is only half of it to see,
 and yet it is round, and fair!
 So it is with many things
 that we mock confidently,
 Because our eyes see them not.

 We proud children of man
 are vain, poor sinners
 and we know nothing well.
 We spin airy nothings
 and search for many arts,
 but we merely move further from our goal.

 God, show us Salvation!
 Make us aspire after nothing transitory
 and rejoice not in vanity!
 Let us become simple,
 and before You here on earth,
 let us become as pious and joyous as children!

         *  *  *

 Might You, at the end, without pain,
 Take us from the world
 through gentle death,
 and when you have taken us,
 let us arrive in Heaven,
 Thou, our Lord and our God?

 Then lie down, brothers,
 in God's name, lie down!
 Cold is the breeze of the evening;
 spare us, God, Thy punishments
 and let us sleep peacefully -
 and our ill neighbour as well!