... 

   The languid day is followed by the moon,
It breathes peace upon all creatures.
The ocean is not accustomed to any peace;
Thus I, too, am selected for unrest,
My only joy, the dream, I must already hate in advance,
At the point of highest happiness it shall again abandon me.

   A fruit tree that is laden with fruit
Lets its branches hang down toward the ground.
A brisk wind from from the East,
It cannot be happily shaken up,
It knocks down the fruits and the weak blossoms,
And my dreams that glowed so gloriously in the night.

   I love something, and I do not tell of it,
For vow and virtue command me to keep silent;
My completely hidden Love-light
Is not permitted to show its flame at all,
It directs its pure, bright beams toward heaven,
The sun is a reflection of my agonies.

 ...