The sun is sinking over there

The sun is sinking over there,

and the weary day has fallen asleep.

The willows here hang down

into the pond, so still, so deep.

And I must part from my dearest;

well up, 0 tears, well up within me!

The willows rustle mournfully here,

and the reed trembles in the wind.

Into my silent, deep sorrow,

Shine, distance! bright and mild -

just as, through weeds and willows here,

the evening star's image shines.