Old sounds

Do you hear the bird singing?

Do you see the blossoming tree?

Heart! can this not rouse you

from your fearful dream?

What do I hear? Old sounds

of a mourning, youthful breast,

from that time when I trusted

the world and its joys.

Those days are gone.

I will be healed by no meadow herb;

And from this dream, this fearful nightmare,

only an angel will awaken me.