The miner does not tremble at death,
He knows it all too well,
And when his shift is over
The glow of his little lamp goes out.
 
You, too, have run your course,
The glow of the little lamp is extinguished,
And never again shall the sound of the little bell call you
Out of the entrance of the mine.
 
All alone to mother earth
You now belong,
Of the gold of morning and sunshine
There was nothing upon your life’s path.
 
Now you have only exchanged for night
The night that surrounded you,
And instead of in the dark mineshaft you now
Reside in the dark grave.
 
That is no change that shocks you;
You remain true to the night,
How and where it covers you,
That is all the same.
 
For the pious courage in your face
Still reveals it:
The miner does not tremble at death,
He knows it all too well.