Good night, my sorrow,
My loneliness,
Farewell, you secret apprehensions,
For morning dawns
And Love laughs,
And Love goes a-wandering in the morning.

   You silent forest,
Green dwelling place
Of my songs and my dreams,
Inscribe them all
Upon your leaves,
Upon the merry, rustling trees.

   My Love walks
Between forest and flowerbed,
Over meadows and mountains and waves.
Fly out with me,
You my entire home,
You [befeathered]1 little comrades!

   Everything that can wander
Should join [all the members of]
My merry household.
Everything that loves
Should come out into the sunshine,
All you waves, you clouds, [you]2 winds!

[ ... ]

When the god's last mild shimmer
Has disappeared from the lake,
Remembered images rise up for me
From the night of the waves,

They paint for me the rocking of the boat
Along the furrowed path [of the waves],
When the morning breezes waveringly
Create magical songs.

They paint for me, rambling from the mountain peaks,
The delighted spirit
And the bucolically pretty group
Around the shepherd maiden's hearth. 

[ ... ]

Soon driven away by storm and snowflakes,
The shepherdess happily moves down to the valley
And the echo of the bells sounds
From the heights for the last time.

A powerful attachment bound the youth
To the city of his fathers,
And ever remembering the love
That he had sworn,
Every morning he passes the house
Of the precious one,
And calls out in quiet plaintiveness,
Forgetting all his anxieties,
A thousand good mornings!

For all eternity! You faithful man,
From the true depths of love!
Then respond those he meets
Who know of his love.
The youth continues upon his way
And returns at eve,
Where he once more stands at the house
Reveling in the greeting:
A thousand good evenings!

For all eternity!  The pious greeting
Rises from a pure heart;
That is the spirit of Love,
Which inclines itself to mercy.
The youth [continues ever onward]1,
At night-time he returns,
His forehead hot, his heart in a glow,
Until he has spoken the greeting:
A thousand good nights!

The silver bells
Of the flower of May,
They ring, inviting to the dance!
Come into the circle,
You swarming fairies!
Come, strew flakes [i.e., petals]
Of purple and white!
Where moonlight trembles
    About the scented primrose,
There the airy dance
    Shall be woven!

[ ... ]

People, like leaves,
Soon disappear
With fearful haste!
They laboriously build themselves
A palace in the clouds!
In a small room made of boards [i.e., a coffin]
They find rest!
[But] we laugh at the miserable
    Wrinkles of time!
And remain the same
    Tomorrow as today!

We reign in dominions
Where thy wellspring,
Oh youth, never dries up!
The thornless rose
Sways beside the path,
And eternally no sign
In the book of stars shall deceive.
Where moonlight trembles
    About the scented primrose,
There the airy dance
    Shall be woven!