Light veils in the heights

Light veils in the heights,

And you, little brook, small and narrow,

Should my love spot you,

Greet her, from me, many thousand times.

See you, clouds, her go then,

Meditating in the quiet valley,

Let my image stand before her

In the airy heavenly hall.

If she near the bushes stands,

Now that autumn is faded and leafless,

Lament to her, what has happened to me,

Lament to her, little birds, my suffering!

Quiet west, bring in the wind

To my heart's chosen one

My sighs, that pass

As the last ray of the sun.

Whisper to her of my love's imploring,

Let her, little brook, small and narrow,

Truly, in your waves see

My tears without number!