The morning

The first ray of morning sun flies

through the quiet foggy dale,

the awakening forest and hill rustle:

those who can fly, take flight!

And his cap into the air

the buoyant man throws, exclaiming,

"Song has wings as well,

so let me sing merrily!"

Out you go, far into the world,

dishearted and with dragging feet;

what leaves you hopeless in the dark of night,

morning shows it in a hopeful light.