In the last boat

The boat's bench I make my pillow.

Finally is my hot forehead cool!

O, how sweetly does my heart grow colder!

How softly joys and pains are stilled!

Above me the black smoke from the funnel

sways and wavers in the breath of the breeze.

Over here and then over there

the boat puts in at many a small port:

by the dim glow of the ship's lantern

a shadow disembarks and no one comes on board.

Only the helmsman is left, standing watching!

Only the wind, that ruffles my hair!

Pain and joy die a gentle death.

The dark boat bears away this sleeping man.