In the spring-time a man went
Far and wide through bushes and fields,
Around birch, beech and alder trees;
The green of the trees in the May light,
The flowers under them - he did not notice them;
He was looking for his pearl.

The pearl was his greatest possession,
For it he had been on the high seas,
Sailing across the ocean, and he had suffered a great deal;
In it he had hoped to find consolation for life,
He protected it in his bosom, and he often
Fought robbers to keep hold of it.

He was looking for it now with a heavy heart:
Then he was directed to the bright river,
And within it the golden loach;
But the river in the sunlight was no help to him
Nor the dance of the loaches in the river;
He was looking for his pearl.

And he will keep on looking in the same way,
He will never take pleasure in what comes of life,
In the morning hours he will no longer
Notice the crimson sky;
He has to go up and down mountains
Until he has found it.

The poor pilgrim! Similarly, like him,
In the spring-time I wander about,
Around birch, beech and alder trees;
I do not notice the miracle of May;
But, oh, what I am lacking
Is more than a pearl.

What I am lacking, what I have lost,
What I selected as my greatest possession,
Is love in a faithful heart.
In vain I process up and down;
But there will come a time when I find a cool grave,
Which will put an end to all my agonies.