Once more my spirit is filled with
The lovely miracle of love;
We walk through the moonlit night,
The nightingale laments in the elder-bush.

Your head lies heavily and sweetly
Upon my breast with trembling,
My heart, that I had long thought dead,
Awakens to life once more.

My heart shudders and struggles in the moonlight
Because, with a mighty burgeoning,
Through its depths breaks out caressingly
The springtime storm of your love.

Oh grant to me one last dream,
You child with glowing cheeks:
Remain true to me until from the elder-bush
The leaves have been whirled away,

I would like to mitigate the sorrow of parting
Through something unusual and new,
Dying I would like to press to my heart
A woman's heart - a faithful one.

Days of happiness pass in a flash,
Soon it is midsummer . . .
It is only a lovely deception
That I shyly beg of you.

For when the leaves fall tiredly and gently,
Autumn-scented, along the pathways,
Then I, too, a leaf in the wind, shall go
Toward the eternal spring,

Then I, too, shall go, far from here
To dream under the soughing trees
In all eternity, of you
And of your love.