Rage then, storm, achieve your ends,
 Scatter these planks, just like the mast
 You only just splintered with a crash.
 Oh this bosom! You lift from it the weight.
 It will be good to lie there down below;
 There one will finally have rest from tribulations.
 What is still crashing? Good, the wave has already struck,
 Go on then!  It has come to pass; we sink, -- No.

We are not sinking!  Still borne,
 Still swung heavenward is the narrow coffin;
 Unresponsive death, you are usually so biddable,
 You are not normally so miserly with your arrows.
 To have to continue to drag about this loveless stark life,
 Oh [longer to labour] under the yoke, that would be terrible.
 And whether it be this or that, who cares?
 Is there anyone who would weep for me back home?

But you, my Hitzig, when you too have perhaps
 Completed your struggles, when you perhaps are no more --
 The full cup of life was passed to you;
 With calm happiness you quickly quaffed it.
 She, your sun, has reached her goal,
 She is already covered with cold and heavy earth,
 You would be permitted to depart. No, you would not,
 By duty you are nicely bound here [on earth].

My Hitzig, as you for your children,
 So I shall live a time for you,
 Perhaps you shall be the one to close my eyes [in death],
 Perhaps I shall do it for you; even that I am prepared to do.
 You winds and waves are once more holding your peace,
 Within me [, too,] strife has subsided.