The sparkling dew

The dew sparkles on the grasses in the night,

the moon passes by in quiet splendor,

the nightingale sings in the bushes.

Hovering over the meadows in twilight,

the whole spring is fragrant,

we two wander through it all.

O Spring, you are so beautiful!

Here among the fragrantly intoxicating blooms,

on his arm his trembling love,

with the first heavenly kiss,

and, firmly embracing, the fond wish,

that forever, forever all should remain as now.