In Autumn

The forest yellows, the leaves fall,

how desolate and silent it is!

The brooks alone run through the beech-halls

softly murmuring as if in a dream,

and evening bells ring

distantly from the forest's edge.

To what do you so wildly lure me

here in the solitude?

These bells sound as at home

in the silent days of my childhood-

I turn startled,

alas, that which loves me is far away!

So burst forth now, old songs,

and break my heart!

Once again I greet from afar

what alone I love,

but I am dragged down

wistfully as if into the grave.