With his breast heavy with rue and heartache,
A lad walks through the green heath.

"Sun, bright sun," he says pleadingly,
"You are omniscient, all-seeing;

"Give me tidings of the maiden, the pale one,
That I once left at the water-spring in the forest."

The sun speaks: "Upon my journey I saw
Many a forsaken woman with pale cheeks,

"But the one whom you left behind laden with sorrow,
I did not see as I travelled my bright pathways."

When in an evening hour the moon appears,
The lad asks the moon as well for tidings:

"Did you not see, from your heavenly height,
That One, whom I left in woe?"

The moon speaks:  "Indeed I saw many a poor
Woman tortured by enormous sorrow,

"But that one whom you once betrayed,
I did not see from my heavenly arch."

Quietly in the grass two narcissi are whispering:
"Neither moon nor sun can know

"Where his pale love is to be found,
But we flowers could doubtless tell him,

"We, who conceal ourselves in the earth,
Until spring wakens us from out of our coffins."