In the alder bushes, in the pine grove,
In the sun- and moon- and star-light
An image smiles around me.
Before its smile,
The twilight quickly clears, [revealing a] bright heaven,
A paradise of wildness.

It whispers in the evening breeze,
It gleams in the fragrance of morning,
It dances in the meadow,
It pipes in the quail’s song,
And is reflected in the clear brook,
And bathes in the dew.

It draws near, in sweet intimacy,
To me in deepest darkness
So bashful and so quiet.
It lulls me into a state of gentle tranquility,
And breathes dreams in [my] sleep
In a wonderfully sweet way.

I open my arms to it yearningly,
And strive (cozily and with the warmth of love)
To press it to my breast.
I reach out, and catch [only] empty air,
And the unseen thing, like a swirl of mist,
Floats away from my sight.

Who are you, fair image made of air,
[Both] angelically fair and angelically mild,
Who fill me with pain and pleasure?
Are you a courier from a better world
Who beckons me out of this desolate field
To its homeland?

O fly on ahead! I’ll follow you.
To be with you would be bliss; [but] not here.
Speak, so I can catch you,
And carry away all pains,
Ensnaring you, and ensnared by you,
Never, never to leave you.