Voice of the turtle dove:
 Doves of Gurre! Full of sorrow I am,
 while on my way across the island!
 Come! Listen!
 Dead is Tove! Night in her eyes,
 Which were the kings daylight!
 Silent is her heart,
 but the King's heart is wildly beating,
 Dead and wild as yet!
 Oddly like a boat
 on heaving waves, if the one, to whose welcome the planks have bent
 in tribute, the ship's helmsman is dead, entangled in the weeds of the deep.
 Nobody brings them news,
 impassable the path.
 Like two streams have been their thoughts,
 flowing side by side.
 Where do Tove's thoughts flow now?
 The King's are oddly winding,
 searching for those of Tove,
 and can't find them.
 Far did I fly, laments to search, and found aplenty!
 The coffin I saw on the King's shoulders,
 Henning supported him;
 dark was the night, a single torch burned
 beside the path;
 the Queen held it, high on the donjon,
 full of vengeful musings.
 Tears she denied herself,
 but glistened in her eye.
 Far I flew, laments to search, and found aplenty!
 The King I saw, with the coffin he drove, in a peasant's dress.
 His charger,
 that often had carried him to victory,
 was pulling the coffin.
 Wild was the King's eye,
 searching for that gaze,
 irritated listened the King's heart,
 for that word.
 Henning talks to the King,
 but still he is searching word and gaze.
 The King opens Tove's coffin,
 Stares and listens with quivering lips,
 Tove is silent!
 Far I flew, laments to search, and found aplenty!
 A monk went to pull the bell rope
 for the evening's blessings [prayers];
 but then he saw the coachman
 and heard the bad news:
 The sun sank, while the bell
 rang out the death knell.
 Far I flew, laments to search
 and death!
 Helwig's falcon it was, who
 cruelly tore apart Gurre's dove.