I call from the shore
 To my lost happiness;
 Only the sound of the oars
 Echoes back to the beach.

 From the beach, dear mother,
 Where the pounding waves go,
 There sail the ships:
 My beloved is on one of them. 
 The more I call,
 The faster they run.
 If a wind carries them off,
 Who could protect them?
 The breath of my lament
 Only swells the sails,
 The more my yearning
 Would hold them back!
 If I held back my laments,
 My sorrow would release them,
 So between lamenting and keeping silent
 My heart is torn.

I call from the shore
 To my lost happiness;
 Only the sound of the oars
 Echoes back to the beach.

 Such volatile castles:
 Who could trust them,
 And build Love, a lasting one,
 Upon them with joy?
 Like birds in flight,
 Where do they rest?
 Such hurried wanderers,
 They find no home,
 Troubling the waves
 Of green crystal;
  And what they disturb
 Is transformed entirely.
 The waves move on,
 And the wind blows on;
 Only the agony in my heart
 Remains unchanging.

I call from the shore
To my lost happiness;
Only the sound of the oars
Echoes back to the beach.