In the ruins at Hirsau
The crown of an elm tree,
Fresh with new green, sways
High above the margin of the gables.

The elm is rooted deep in the earth
Of an old abbey;
In place of an abbey roof it arches
Itself out into the blue of heaven.

Because the constraints of the masonry
Robbed [the elm] of air and sunshine,
It was driven high and higher,
Until it reached the light.

The four walls stand
As if they were solely destined
To protect the valiant growth [of the elm]
That aspires to the clouds.

When there in the green valley
I roamed on my solitary walks,
It was the elm, the noble one,
On which my thoughts dwelt.

When in the gloomy, mute
Ruins I [sat and] listened,
Then its animated treetop
Soughed in the wake of the wind.

I often saw it beginning to glow
In the first sunbeams of morning;
I saw it still illumined
When the valley round about was already in shadow.

In Wittenberg in the abbey
There, too, grew such a tree
And with its giant branches
It broke through the ceiling of its cell.

Oh beam of light, you penetrate
Down into every dark place.
Oh spirit of the world, you struggle
Upward toward light and air.