Has beauteous spring appeared?
Has the earth rejuvenated itself?
The sunlit hills are becoming green
And the surface of the ice is cracking.
Out of the blue mirror of the streams
The cloudless Zeus is laughing,
Zephyrus's wings are beating more gently,
The young sprigs are bursting with buds.
Songs are awakening in the grove,
And the Oread speaks:
Your flowers are returning,
Your daughter is not returning.

Oh, how long has it been that I have been pacing around
Searching through the fields of the Earth?
Titan, all your rays of light,
I have sent all your rays to track down the dear one;
Noone has as yet given me any news
Of her beloved face,
And the day which finds all things
Has not found the lost one.
Zeus, have you snatched her from me,
Stirred by her charm, has
Pluto taken her to the black river of Orcus?
Has Pluto abducted her?

Who will go to that gloomy bank
And be the messenger of my grief?
The boat is endlessly pushing off from the land
But it only ever takes on shadows.
Hidden away from all blessed eyes
Remains the nocturnal realm,
And for as long as the Styx has been flowing
It has never carried any living image.
A thousand steps lead down there,
But none lead back to daylight,
No witnesses come to give evidence of her tears
Before the anxious gaze of her mother.

Mothers who are descended from Pyrrha
Are born mortal,
They are allowed to go through the flames of the grave
To follow their beloved child;
Only those who inhabit Jove's house
Cannot approach the dark shore,
Only the blessed ones are exempted,
Parcae, by your strict hand.
Throw me into the night of nights
Out of the golden hall of heaven!
Show no respect to my rights as a goddess,
Oh, my distress is that of a mother!

There, where with her dark spouse
She is joylessly enthroned, that is where I would like to climb down to,
And with a light shadow I want to step
Gently before the Empress.
Oh, her eyes, wet with tears
Are searching in vain for the golden light,
They are wandering off to distant spheres,
But they do not fall on her mother - 
Until joy uncovers her,
Until breast is united with breast,
And, awakened to compassion,
Even the rough river Orcus weeps.

Pointless wish! Wasted laments!
Calmly along the same track
The secure chariot of day rolls on.
The decision of Zeus stands for ever.
Away from those darknesses
He has turned his lucky head;
Torn from me once during the night
She now remains stolen from me for ever,
Until the dark waves of the river
Glow with Aurora's colours,
And until Iris appears in the middle of hell
Carrying her beautiful bow.

Is nothing of her left for me?
No sweet pledge left as a souvenir
Showing that she still loves me from afar,
No trace of her dear hand?
Are there no love bonds tying
The child up to her mother?
Between the living and the dead,
Has no connection been established?
No, she has not fled away completely!
We are not completely separated!
The eternal powers above have
In fact granted us a language!

When the children of spring die,
When, because of the cold breath of the north wind
Leaves and flowers lose their colour,
And the naked straw stands sadly,
Then I take the highest life
Out of Vertumnus's rich horn of plenty,
Sacrificing it to offer it to the Styx,
What to me is the golden corn of the seed,
I lower it mournfully into the Earth
And lay it on the child's heart,
So that it will become a language,
Expressing my love, my sorrow.

Only when the regular dance of the Hours leads
Spring joyfully back
Will the dead be born anew
Out of the living glance of the sun;
Seeds which to the eye appeared to have died
In the cold womb of the Earth,
In the cheerful realm of colour
They joyfully fight themselves free.
As stems hurry up towards the sky
The roots shyly search for the night,
Sharing equally in their care
Are the powers of the Styx and of the Ether.

They are in contact half with the dead
And half with the domain of the living - 
Oh, they are my dear messengers,
Sweet voices of Cocytus.
Even though he is still holding her captive
In the dreadful abyss,
Out of the young shoots of spring
Her beauteous mouth is speaking to me;
Telling me that although far away from golden days
Where shadows fall sadly,
Her breast is still beating with love,
Hearts are still glowing affectionately.

Oh, therefore let me greet you with delight,
Children of the rejuvenated meadow,
Your cup will overflow
With nectar's purest dew.
I shall bathe you all in rays;
With Iris's most beautiful light
I shall paint your petals
To look like Aurora's face.
In the cheerful gaze of spring
Let each tender breast take note,
In the withered garland of autumn let each breast take note of
My sorrow and my pleasure.