English translations of Sieben Lieder, opus 62

A maiden wished to arise early,
Wished to go into her father's garden,
She wished to pick red roses,
From which she wished to make herself
A lovely wreath.

It was to be her bridal wreath:
"For the fine lad, for my lad,
You red roses, I pick you,
From you I wish to twine
A wreath so lovely."

She walked to and fro in the greenery,
Instead of roses she found rosemary:
"So you, my faithful one, are lost!
No rose is to be found,
[There shall be] no wreath so lovely."

She walked to and fro in the garden,
Instead of roses she picked rosemary:
"My faithful one, I offer you this [instead]!
I shall rest by you under the lime trees,
[In] my lovely burial wreath."

  I wanted to go a-riding,
To arrive before the door of my beloved,
She is looking for me from afar,
And says with great joy:
"See yonder the adornment of my heart,
How he is trotting toward me.
Trot, dear horse, trot,
Trot on and on."

  The rein, I let it free,
And shot off to her,
[And I]1 greeted her in a friendly manner,
And spoke with sweet words:
"My treasure, my greatest adornment,
What are you [doing]2 in front of the door?
Trot, dear horse, trot,
[Trot over to her]3."

  I sprang from the horse of mine,
And tied it to the door,
Joyfully I embraced her,
Time did not hang heavy on our hands,
We walked in the garden
[With loving desire]4;
Trot, dear horse, trot,
[Trot softly forth]3.

  We sat down
In the green grass,
And sang, every now and then,
[The old love songs,
Until our eyes were wet with tears,
Because of the hatred of the yappers]5
Trot, dear horse, trot,
[Trot, trot on your way]3.

Wondrously cool woodland night,
whom I greet a thousand times:
after the uproarious tumult of the world,
o how sweet is your rustling!
Dreamily I nestle my weary limbs
in your tender moss,
and it seems to me as if once more
I were free from all my insane anguish.

Distant fluting song, emerge and
stir a wide yearning,
with thoughts of the beloved,
ah! beguile the resented distance!
Let the woodland night lull me,
still every pain,
and a blissful satisfaction
permit me to drink in with its fragrances.

In narrow, secret circles,
you, wild heart, will know well
that peace hovers above with hushed
wing-beats, slowly descending.
Lovely birds, sing your lovely songs,
sing me gently into slumber!
Distracting torments, dissipate again;
wild heart, now good night!

Your tender heart,
you lovely image,
does not yet glow
there lies within
a dreamy glow,
'twill soon come alive.

The night has 
brought on a dew
to all the blossoms in the wood,
and in the morning
to come all is blooming aplenty
and fragrance drifts across the slope.

The tender love
has overnight
poured dew into your heart,
and then in the morning,
it's written, on your face,
the blossom has been brought to bloom.

All the thoughts of my heart
Are forever with you;
That is the silent illness,
That consumes me on the inside.
Since you once embraced me,
Peace and rest have left me.
All the thoughts of my heart
Are forever with you.

For speedwell and for roses
I no long yearn,
How [can I]1 win joy
[When]2 I am lacking love?
Since you parted from me,
I have not laughed for a single moment;
For speedwell and for roses
I no long yearn.

May God unite those
Who are meant for one another!
Otherwise the eyes shall become blind
From sorrowing and weeping.
True love is in Heaven's keeping;
Everything, everything shall still come out right.
May God unite those
Who are meant for one another!

A wind sweeps through the woods,
I hear the whirlwind singing.
She sings of a true lover
And until she rests in his arms,
She must yet, with anxious spirit,
[Surge far]2 through the lands.

The singing, it rings out so spookily,
It rings out so wildly, so drearily.
Fervent yearning is awakened;
My darling, a thousand good nights to you!
The day shall come before you know it,
[The day] that shall unite true love!

Gone is my happiness and well-being
And all my joy on earth;
I am wretched, completely lost,
Things will never become better.
Until death,
I will suffer great distress,
For I must part from you, my love,
Alas, it has come to pass,
That woeful thing!
If I must lose you,
Great sorrow will befall me.

I pity myself so much;
It comes from a lover's sensibility,
Which has brought me fear and hardship,
And willingly I bear it.
For you alone,
My heart's dearest,
No burden is too heavy;
Were it twice as heavy,
I yet would die
In your service,
Never seeking to woo a strange love.

For help I call, my highest treasure,
Hear my yearning lament!
Send me a message quickly, darling,
Or I must despair with sorrow!
My sad heart 
Suffers with great pain,
How can I overcome it?
I fear that suddenly
Death will struggle with me
For my life;
O give me hope!