How blissful you are, my queen

How blissful you are, my queen,

When you are gentle and good!

Merely smile, and spring fragrance wafts

Through my spirit blissfully!

The brightness of freshly blooming roses,

Shall I compare it to yours?

Ah, soaring over all that blooms

Is your bloom, blissful!

Wander through dead wastelands,

And green shadows will be spreading,

Even if fearful sultriness

Broods there without end... blissfully!

Let me die in your arms!

It is in them that Death itself,

Even if the sharpest pain

Rages in my breast... is blissful!