To the drinking glass of a departed friend

You splendid glass, that stands now empty -

glass that he often raised with joy -

the spider has around you now

woven a somber crape.

Now you shall be filled for me,

moonbright, with the gold of German vines!

In the sacred shine of your depths

I shall gaze with devout trembling.

What I see in your depths

cannot be described to ordinary people.

Yet it becomes clear to me in this moment

how nothing can divide friend from friend.

To this belief, lovely glass,

I drain you with good cheer.

Clearly mirrored is the gold of stars,

o goblet, in your precious blood!

Silently the moon moves beside the vale,

Seriously tolls the midnight hour.

Empty stands the glass! The sacred tones

resound in its crystal chamber.