Summer days

Now the days drag through the world,

sent forth from blue eternity;

time dissipates in the summer wind.

Now at night the Lord weaves

with blessed hand wreaths of stars

above the wandering wonderland.

In these days, o my heart, what can

your brightest wanderer's song then say

about your deep, deep pleasure?

In meadowsong the heart falls silent;

now there are no words, and image upon image

visits you and fills you entirely.