You are dear to me! As dear as that quiet hour
  -- Springtime had hardly touched the edge of the garden --
  In which a word, breathed by your lips,
  Bound my heart to yours beyond the grave,
  That is how you are dear to me!

You are dear to me, as dear as the hope of my soul
  That God [guides his people to the light]1;
  As dear as my faith that, pierced through the heart,
  The old night already folds its pinions,
  That is how you are dear to me!

You are dear to me, as dear as the quiet radiance of the stars
  That sends a greeting down in portentous splendour;
  As dear as the sunny distance of the days of my life,
  From which rich happiness smiles towards me,
  That is how you are dear to me!

You are dear to me, as dear as the resounding of my song,
  As dear as the gladly heard sound of my name;
  As dear as the hidden tear that was enticed
  From a maiden's beautiful eyes by my singing,
  That is how you are dear to me!

You are dear to me, as dear as that handful of earth
  That shall soon cover my heart in peace;
  As dear as He Himself, who spoke to me my "Be!"
  Who calls me to my grave and again wakens me,
  That is how you are dear to me!