Whene'er I see your eyes
From out of which only happiness ever flew,
The brow over which woe has
Never spread its dark cloud:
I feel how sorrow creeps into my heart,
When I think that e'en so soon
The joy of your life shall pale
Before the omnipotence of destiny.

For the day shall come, shall come,
When your face shall look sorrow-laden,
And when fate with its blows
Shall break your heart, fervent with love;
Youth, now clear as snow,
Untouched by rain, and pure,
When it is wounded by the first woe
Never again glows with its erstwhile radiance.

Oh know, when of your lovely image,
Which now stands so shimmeringly before me
And glows in the most glorious radiance of beauty,
Someday allurement after allurement should pass away:
I would love you still as I always loved you
In your loveliness,
And even if the splendour of your beauty were scattered,
My heart shall always remain dedicated to you.

Whether from your sweet face
Happiness speaks or pain,
Whether your charm increases or is broken by age,
My heart shall always love and praise you!
The heart that is aware of true love
Loves even when misfortune beckons;
Thus as well the flower looks toward the sun full of joy,
Whether it be rising or sinking.

The young May-moon is shimmering, my love,
The bright fireflies are flickering, my love,
        I gladly wander alone
        Through meadow and grove
When in a dream the world concerns itself with nothing, my love!
But awaken! For the world is full of splendour, my child,
It has been created for happiness, my child,
        The best endeavour
        To extend one’s life
Is to steal an hour of the night, my child.

The world is still sleeping gladly, my love,
Only astronomers gaze to the stars, my love!
        My star so clear
        Is your pair of eyes
That looks out into the distance from yonder window, my love!
But awaken! For the sun is wakening, my child,
The astronomer is gazing gently about, my child,
        He espies you clearly,
        Thus he must surely
Deem you to be a star full of splendour, my love.

It is believed that the harp that sounded for you
Was a siren in ancient times,
Who often lifted herself up from the lap of the sea
To see the lad to whom she had dedicated her heart.

But she pleaded in vain; he would not come,
Her face grew pale, her eyes were full of dew,
Until heaven took her former shape from her,
And transformed the woman into this harp.

Her bosom still rises [and falls], still glows her cheek,
And over her hair, so curly and lovely,
[Her] tears flow so drearily and so fearfully:
Those are now the resounding strings of gold.

And therefore one heard the harp ringing
Now of love, now of sorrow, without choice, without adornment --
Until you came and taught me that I must sing love
When you are near, and sorrow when you are far from me.