Out, my gaze, out into the valley!
That is where the fullness of life still lives;
Refresh yourself there in the moonlight 
And in the sacred silence.
There you can listen undisturbed, my heart,
There you can listen to the gentle sounds
Which, as if from far away, offer you bliss and pain
As they press against you.

They offer such miraculous pressure,
They stir up all my longing.
Oh tell me, presentiment, are you real?
Are you a vain illusion?
Will there come a time when, in bright pleasure, my eyes
Smile rather than weep as they do now?
Will there come a time when my frequently inflamed breast
Is caressed by blessed rest?

And even if reason called out to me:
You must reject that presentiment,
Enraptured rest for the soul dwells
Only beyond the starry constellations;
I would nevertheless not be able to dismiss the flatterer
And drive it from my breast:
It has often taken my deluded mind
And carried it upwards, having strengthened it.

When presentiment and memory
Are united in front of our eyes,
Then things become milder. The dawning light
Of the soul replaces the deepest shadows.
Oh, if we were not able to take dreams and
Interweave them with reality,
How poor in colour, brightness and light
You would be, oh human life!

With such faithful and persistent hope
The heart continues up until the grave;
It embraces the present with love
And considers itself rich in possessions.
The possessions which it creates itself
Cannot be stolen from it by whatever happens:
It lives in and is intertwined with warmth and power,
Through confidence and faith.

And if night and mist descended 
And everything around were to die,
This heart has long been prepared for any battle
And has acquired a shield for itself.
With the utmost defiance in adversity
It will bear what has been decreed.
Thus I shall go to sleep, and thus I shall wake up,
Not with pleasure, but in peace.