In the quiet night, at the first watch

In the quiet night, at the first watch,

a voice began to lament;

sweetly and gently, the night wind

carried to me its sound.

And from such bitter sorrow and grief

my heart has melted.

The little flowers - with my pure tears

I have watered them all.

The beautiful moon wishes to set

out of pain, and never shine again;

the stars will let fade their gleam

for they wish to weep with me.

Neither bird-song nor sound of joy

can one hear in the air;

the wild animals grieve with me as well,

upon the rocks and in the ravines.