Anyone whose blood courses lightly through his veins,
He is a rich man;
Also there is no golden chain pressing down on him 
With fear or hope.

For cheerfulness directs him
Towards a restful grave
All the way through a long life
Using its magic wand.

Reconciled with all men,
He loves them as brothers:
The bright flame of revenge
Never burns in his heart.

For it is friendship that ties them together
With countless arms:
He therefore does not hate his enemies,
He doesn't even know any.

Where-ever he turns his happy gaze
Everything is beautiful and good;
Everything is bright and loveable
And merry, like his disposition.

For him sunshine alone is enough to turn
The world into Paradise,
The stream is clear, the spring is pure
And its babbling is sweet.

In ever-changing forms
The fields full of flowers refresh him,
And for him alone there is no growing old for
Holy nature.

So, if I were as rich as Croesus was
And powerful to boot
And if I had nuggets of gold
In my possession that were as big as mountains;

And even if I were the Lord of Everything
That could be seen stretching from the North Sea
Deep down as far as the Black Sea
By human eyes;

And if I did not have a jolly disposition
Things would seem bleak and my eyes would be downcast;
I would consider myself a poor sod
And I would speak up, saying to Fate:

O goddess! if you care for my welfare
Listen to me! Take all of this
Back, all of it, but give me
Light blood in exchange!

For cheerfulness makes us rich and free,
And it is a rare man indeed
Who is fortunate enough, whoever he may be,
To be able to hold onto it.