Evening sensations

Evening it is; the sun has vanished,

And the moon streams with silver rays;

Thus flee Life's fairest hours,

Flying away as if in a dance.

Soon away will fly Life's colorful scenes,

And the curtain will come rolling down;

Done is our play, the tears of a friend

Flow already over our grave.

Soon, perhaps (the thought gently arrives like the west wind -

A quiet foreboding)

I will part from life's pilgrimage,

And fly to the land of rest.

If you will then weep over my grave,

Gaze mournfully upon my ashes,

Then, o Friends, I will appear

And waft you all heavenward.

And You my beloved, bestow also a little tear on me, and pluck

Me a violet for my grave,

And with your soulful gaze,

Look then gently down on me.

Consecrate a tear for me, and ah!

Do not be ashamed to cry;

Those tears will be in my diadem

then: the fairest pearls!