The day, the humid [day],
 grows pale and now
in this coolness
  desire to rest
Those who gave themselves
  over to the festival of pleasure --
now with trembling
  breast nestles up to breast . . .

The night [breeze]1
  spreads its wings wide:
"Whoever loves, is also awake
  at this time . . ."
He kisses the wave
  and it succumbs
to him at once,
  because it loves him . . .

Oh great celebration!
  Oh most beautiful night!
Now all the splendour,
  shall reveal itself,
[the splendour] that was hidden by day,
  in doubting,
in anxiety and worry --
  Now day is breaking!

Silently from the shore
  a rocking boat casts off --
Is that murderer Death
  leaving the country?
He was summoned here
  in vain:
the God of Life
   rules the world! . . .

What is that stormy whispering
  along the path?
What pleads so yearningly?
  What sighs so anxiously?
Something never before heard
  Your ear now hears --
It beguiles like poison:
  what is happening here?

The sense of the sounds
  is known to me,
Therefore, [you]2 Beautiful One,
  give me your hand:
I, who understood how to
  move your heart,
I wish to lead you
  into Wonderland . . .

With sweet shuddering
  you tear yourself away.
Of what use is your hesitation?
  Your lot has been cast!
The voices fall silent.
  Whoever is awake, loves!
You shall become my own
  this night yet!