In the woods

So lonely is the countryside,

so peaceful and so still.

If only I had not this pain,

which will not leave my heart.

The birds are singing everywhere,

the treetops gently sway.

I seem to see a far-off grave;

can it be really true?

Two butterflies fly to and fro,

where flowers are in bloom.

As once we flew, too, I and you,

along the green wood's verge.