In Danzig

Dark gable, high window,

towers gazing out from mist...

Pale statues like ghosts

soundlessly standing by doors.

Dreamily the moon shines down

on the town it likes so much,

which lies as if magically turned to stone

below, a fairy-world.

Around, through the deep slumber,

over all the houses far and wide,

only the distant roar of the sea can be heard.

Wonderful solitude!

And the watchman, as he has for years,

sings an ancient song:

May God protect the seaman

sailing by in the night.