Little lark, lovely and small,
you warble so sweetly and sensitively.
Do you soar, do you sing
in celebration up into the sky?
Even if the night was hard and anxious,
when I listen to your morning song,
fresh and bright, like the spring
from the narrow cleft in the cliff face,
my heart jumps up for joy.

Little lark, lovely and small,
will you be my messenger?
If so sing and climb
happily into the light of dawn.
Light wings that have turned into song,
little lark, sing, sing!
Carry my heart upwards,
so that it is pulled up rejoicing
with the first song of the lark!