Let people, mute and distant,
  Wander on their way;
  Never shall a smiling star
  Blink upon your path.
  For so long you have loved in vain
  Many a cold heart!
  Ah, what gives joy to everyone,
  Bore bitter pain for you.
 
Do not, then, hope for peace
  In this dreary world,
  Which is lit comfortingly only by
  The light of a distant premonition.
  Be serene; for you too,
  When you are in the cool ground,
  Where slumber receives you and quietness,
  Poor man, only then shall convalesce.
 
Oh, where have the days gone
  In which the radiance of hope
  Gently animated your spirit
  In the glow of youth!
  Reality has for a long time
  Already pushed you downward,
  So that, with muffled step, time
  Creeps past you.
 
Not, oh poor man, to you alone
  Does this lamenting song pertain.
  Many are enshrouded in the fog,
  Which wafts about you as well:
  [About] everyone who stepped upon this earth,
  Warm and joyful like me,
  And asked for love in vain,
  [And is] sorely disappointed as am I.
 
Yes, to you the lamenting sound
  Of this anxious breast pertains!
  For you as for me has flown
  The dreamed delight!
  But song amicably
  Closes my wound;
  May the gentle tones bring you as well
  Comfort and heart’s ease.
 
Do you know the spirit
  Who lets the torch sink,
  And with a solemn kiss of dedication
  Grants you peace?
  Whether in sickness or in battle he ends
  His weary wandering:
  Everyone, who has watched too long,
  [The spirit] lovingly seeks out.