Death, what a horror of nature you are!
Your hour-glass is always trickling,
The scythe you swing flashes,
Grass, stalk and flower sink.

Do not indiscriminately cut down
This little flower that is just coming into bloom;
This little rose, only just half red;
Be merciful, dear death!

Do not take this beauteous lad,
Who, with innocence in his face,
Is playing with his mother's breast
And who is feeling his first stirrings of life.

And for my sake spare this youth,
Who, at the sensitive piano
Is weighing and swinging golden strings
And is singing a song of love.

Look, over there stands a German hero
In Columbus's new world,
Who does not shun the savage's axe:
Death, oh extend his time!

Spare the poet, whose strength,
Like his maker, creates worlds,
Who, in the circle of those learning from him
Knows how to make everything devout.

Do not kill the young bride,
Beautifully constructed for her husband,
Who, with a similar character to Sulamith,
Gives love and receives love.

Nor the pious in the land
Whose upstretched hands
Support God's heavens with their prayers
When he sends down his wrath with the lightning.

Do not kill the sinner either;
Just terrify him with judgement,
So that he will be shocked with fear,
Cry with repentance and change his ways.

In the golden halls of princes,
Dear death, you create distress;
Spare them until the wind
Of vain greatness is too much for them.

Do not kill any rich people;
Leave the healthy in peace!
If you come across good people
Just extend their course.

But if you do have to kill, death,
Then just do it where necessity
Sends a signal from eyes that have been eaten up
And which are sinking into the dust of the dungeon.

Somewhere with each morning: Death!
Somewhere with each evening: Death!
Death! resounds at midnight
In such a way that the frightful cell reverberates.

Death, when are you going to come? My delight!
Pull the dagger out of my breast;
Slip the fetters off my hand.
Oh, when are you going to cover me with sand?

This deathly voice calls out
From so many prison vaults,
Where grief, full of despair,
Has to languish without hope.

Therefore, oh death, if you please,
Lift prisoners out of the world;
Come, put an end to their distress;
Be merciful, dear death!